


Terra Nova

by aljohnson



Series: The YACI-verse (Modern AU) [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Barbecue, Dancing, Domestic Violence, F/M, Family, Fluff, Implied Domestic Violence, Implied Violence, Referenced Physical Abuse, Romance, Smut, Spring, Swimming Pool, Trigger Warnings, bad former relationship, the fireman and policeman's ball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Phryne's relationship is moving forwards.</p><p>A continuation of my 'Modern AU' for Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday 31st July 2011

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst these first few chapters will be light and somewhat fluffy, this particular bit of the story is going somewhere rather unpleasant. You might want to skip either this entire section, or the relevant chapters (which I will flag up as they post). There is nothing *too graphic*, but I felt I should give the warning now.

Jack pulled the set of keys for his mum’s house from his jacket pocket and let himself in.

“Mum?” Jack called out, smiling slightly as he smelt lunch cooking.

“Jack? That you?”

“Yeah mum.” Hanging his jacket on the rack behind the door, Jack moved towards the kitchen where his mum was stood by the stove, stirring a pan. Walking across the room, Jack hugged his mum, kissing her on the cheek.

“You all right son?”

“Yeah, good thanks mum. I just need to pop upstairs, get something from my room.”

“Well you know where you’re going. Not taking your cycling trophies are you?”

“Not today mum, no space in the flat, you know that.” Jack walked back out of the kitchen and moved swiftly up the stairs heading for the room that had once been his shelter from the world.

There were boxes piled up neatly, all of them labelled; ‘Jack – school’, ‘Jack – Uni’, ‘Jack – cycling’, ‘Family – papers’, ‘Family – photos’, ‘Jack – CDs’ declared to be amongst the contents. Jack had rationalised significantly when he had moved from the three bedroomed house to his one bed flat. 

His mum had not taken the break up well; especially when Jack had tried to explain, as delicately as possible, exactly what had happened. He still wasn’t sure which of them had been most embarrassed. His mum’s ire had been greater than his, which was an achievement. It had only increased when he had to try to explain the issue of Rosie’s pregnancy. So the things which had been hastily shoved into the corner of his and Eddie’s old bedroom had been those ‘pre-Rosie’ belongings that Jack knew would be safe from the reactions of a woman who was hurting for the loss that was, as well as the loss that might have been. The nooks and crannies of his flat where sentimental items, given to him and Rosie by his grandmother were stored, would, he hoped, remain unknown to his mum. She certainly hadn’t found them so far. 

Searching through the wardrobe, Jack was looking for the tuxedo he knew was stuffed away in there somewhere. He eventually found it; oh it was going to need some attention from the dry cleaners. He hung it on the door handle and turned his attention to the chest of drawers, rummaging for the cummerbund and bow tie he knew should be in there. They were OK, he decided; a quick press with an iron and they’d be more than acceptable. Shoes and socks and a thick overcoat he had at the flat. The overcoat would be the one he had worn to his first dinner date with Phryne and he smiled at the memory.

“You found what you’re looking for?” His mum’s voice floated up the stairs.

“Yes mum, thanks.” Jack replied, gathering up the items and returning downstairs. He hung the items on the rack behind the door carefully, placing the accessories tidily in the pockets of the tuxedo. He’d pop into the dry cleaning place behind SKR before his shift started tomorrow.

“Lunch is ready.” His mum called out. Jack returned to the kitchen, to help with the final food preparations.

“Is Lizzie not making it? I spoke to her yesterday and she said she might be?” Jack asked.

“She rang earlier, she’s been held up with the kids, you know how it is, said to start without us. What was it you were looking for?”

Jack took a deep breath. His mum wasn’t daft; his answer was going to lead to a lot of further questions; his mother was no fool, repeated experience had taught him that.

Jean Robinson was a formidable woman; James had died when he was fifty five, Jean only fifty, and with three of her four children still largely dependent on her for their well-being. Eddie had already largely flown the nest by then; he was mostly settled in Adelaide. Lizzie had been doing well at Uni, but still came home most weeks. Jack and Kath, still grappling with the changes of their teenage years had taken it harder; not that anyone had taken it well. It had not been easy; two jobs taken on to make up the shortfall of a widow’s pension compared to a wage. The mortgage had been paid, eventually; Eddie had helped financially when he could, and Jean’s own mum had taken on a lot of the housework so Jean could juggle her jobs and still spend some quality time at home.

“Jack?” Asked Jean, interrupting Jack’s thoughts as she piled food up on Jack’s plate as if he hadn’t eaten in a year. “What were you looking for?”

“I was looking for my tuxedo, Mum.”

“Oh. You’ve not worn that for ages. Will it still fit?”

“Yeah, I’ve lost weight, if anything, it’ll be fine.” Jack poured gravy over the roast pork.

“Going to something then?” Jean enquired.

“Erm, yeah. I’m going to the F&P Ball.”

“The Ball? Oh. You haven’t been to that since…”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause as Jean and Jack tucked into their food. Jean appraised her younger son carefully. Maybe he was finally ready to find a nice girl?

“Maybe you’ll meet someone there. They have girls in the fire brigade, don’t they? Or maybe there’ll be a nice policewoman?”

Jack shook his head slightly, admonishing himself for having opened this particular can of worms.

“But I mean, it’ll be fine, I’m sure there’s lots of people who go on their own.” Jean added.

“Actually I’m taking someone.” Said Jack, trying to convey that this as if it was just a casual piece of information. The pitch his voice reached towards the end of the sentence betrayed him again.

“You’re going with someone? Who? Do I know her? Is it Tommo’s sister? I told you she’s single again, and she’s a lovely girl.” Jean responded in a manner that was anything but casual.

Jack ignored the suggestion about Tommo’s sister. She was a lovely girl, but quite definitely ‘not his type’. Plus, Tommo wouldn’t hesitate to punch Jack’s lights out if he so much as looked at his younger sister like that. It was a position Jack respected; he’d taken on the role of protector to Kath when she’d started bringing boys home. Before she’d started bringing boys home, really.

“I’ve sort of started seeing someone.” Jack admitted, before he started chewing a particularly resistant piece of carrot.

“You have?” The beam on his mum’s face gave Jack hope that this might not go too badly.

“Yeah, yeah I have.”

“Who is she? How did you meet her? How long have you been dating?” With the rate his mum was firing questions at him, Jack was sometimes surprised he was the only detective in his family; he felt sure that his propensity for interrogation came in quite a large way from his mum.

Slicing a potato into two, Jack placed one half into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as he considered his answers. “I met her through work; we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months.” Jack shrugged his shoulders, trying to downplay the situation.

“And what’s her name?” Jean asked, animatedly.

“Erm, Phryne.” Replied Jack, turning his attention and his gaze to a section of crackling.

His mum frowned. “That’s unusual. There can’t be many girls with a name like that.”

“Probably not.” Jack agreed, still avoiding making eye contact. In his back pocket, Jack's phone buzzed with a text message. Glancing at his mum he reached for the phone and swiped the screen.

 

**_How’s it going? xx P_ **

 

Smiling, Jack, placed his phone face down on the surface. After his sister had called him yesterday, Jack had admitted to Phryne that he was going to have to retrieve clothes from his mum’s house. He’d almost been embarrassed about having belongings there. Phryne had shrugged it off with her usual sense of humour, admitting that she had rather a lot of her own ‘things’ still at her parents’ house. ‘After all Jack, I did make a dash for Heathrow with whatever I could stuff into two suitcases and the largest carry on I could get away with. Life throws these unexpected moments at us, doesn’t it?’ Then they’d carried on their lazy morning in bed before Phryne had, with what Jack thought was reluctance, got up and got dressed and returned to St Kilda. It felt like maybe, very soon, he could be brave enough to tell her how he felt.

Jean tidily scooped the last of her peas onto her fork as she looked at her younger son once more. He seemed more relaxed than he had been for some time. She wondered why Jack had kept quiet about this girl; didn’t he know that she just wanted him to be happy? ‘Phryne’: that  _ was _ a rare name.

“You know, the only person I know of with the name of Phryne is that socialite who’s always in the gossip pages. You know the one Jack; there were all those rumours about her and Prince Harry. Your girl doesn’t get confused for her, does she?” Jean smiled as she cut into the last of her pork.

Jack went quiet, momentarily closing his eyes. He was reconsidering his decision to not even have told his mum that he knew ‘The Honourable Phryne Fisher’.

“What’s your girl’s last name? It’s not anything similar is it?”

Jack swallowed, “Fisher. She is, Phryne Fisher.”

“That’s the exact same name. Isn’t that funny!”

“That’s because, it’s the exact same girl, Mum.” Jack said, quietly.

Jean slowly placed her cutlery down against the edge of her plate, turning to stare at Jack. “What?” she asked quietly.

“Phryne Fisher, the, ‘socialite’, that’s, who I’m seeing.” Jack said, a worried look settling on his face. 

Jean’s jaw had dropped open, and she appeared to have been rendered mute. Jack knew it would only be temporary and decided to plough on whilst he had a chance.

“But she’s not really like that. I mean, she is, like that, obviously she does go to all those parties and events and charity things. But she’s so much more than that; she runs a business, and she’s raising Jane and she invests in other businesses that are starting out, and she funds scholarships for kids from poor backgrounds to go to Uni and she likes the theatre and films and she seems quite keen on the fact that I cycle and she’s even been to an Abbotsford game with me, although technically that was work-related, and, before we were together, and strictly speaking she is a Magpie. Although she’s also somewhat insistent that she’s a lapsed supporter.” 

Jean Robinson was rarely shocked, but this was one of those unusual occasions. She found the ability to speak once more. “You’re dating a member of the British aristocracy?”

“I’m dating a girl from Collingwood whose Dad happens to have a fancy house in England. I think you’d really like her mum. She’s not really how the papers make her out to be at all.”

“How long have you known her? When did you meet?”

“About three years, and as I said, we met through work.”

“Three years? You’ve known her three years, and you’ve never said?”

“It never came up?” Offered Jack, nervously.

“I can’t believe it. You’re having a joke at my expense and frankly Jack, it’s not funny.”

Jack sighed as he flipped his phone face up and swiped to Facebook. Scrolling to his photos he turned the phone to face his mum.

“OK. This is us at that Abbotsford game. Which was just before her trip to London. This is me at her house for the Royal Wedding; that’s her friend Mac and Mac’s girlfriend Kate, and Phryne’s friend Ray, and Mr & Mrs Butler.”

“Who are Mr & Mrs Butler?”

“They’re, well I suppose you’d say Mr B is a butler, and cook, amongst other things, and Mrs B is the housekeeper.”

“She has a butler?”

“Yes.”

“Called Mr Butler?”

“Yes. He’s a very nice man.” Jack carried on, flipping through the photos stored on his phone. 

“This is from the other week when we were out at dinner,” Jack showed his mum a picture that they’d asked the waitress to take as they squeezed together for another shared dessert, “and this one is from when we went for a walk on the beach near her house.” Jack showed his mum a picture of Phryne laughing with a cheeky grin as she reached out towards him. That had been a few weeks ago, when she’d sneaked out of her house early, for her, on a Sunday morning, and they’d strolled along the sand hand in hand as the sun rose across the bay.

Jean scanned back through everything Jack had just told her. “Who’s Jane? Does she have a child? Oh, or is that the girl she’s guardian to? What’s that all about?”

“Erm, well, actually I’m not really sure how she explains this to people…” Jack tried to recall how it had been explained to him, after he had met Phryne a few times and they’d started to discuss more than just cases. “Phryne had a friend, called Helen, who had cancer, and she died, unfortunately. And Helen had a daughter, Jane, and she was only twelve when Helen passed away, and Phryne is her legal guardian now.”

“Oh the poor girl. You’ve met this Jane?”

“Yes. She’s remarkably mature for fifteen.”

There was a pause as Jean took this in before moving on to her next query. “You were at her house for the Royal Wedding?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you were at a work colleague’s house.”

“Well she is a work colleague. Sort of. She’s a consultant for the department. Sometimes.”

“But she was at the Royal Wedding. I remember seeing the pictures, and there was that article in The Age.”

“She was. Jane had a bit of a party, and the condition of that was that Mac and I sort of, I don’t know, chaperoned it?” Now that Jack said the words, that did sound like a very odd arrangement.

“She went swanning off to a wedding on the other side of the world and dumped her kid on you?”

“It’s not like that. She asked, very nicely, if I’d keep an eye on Jane whilst she was away. Mac was involved too, and the Butler’s live in the house anyway, and Phryne spoke to Jane on the phone all the time while she was over there.”

“Who is this Mac person?”

“That’s Dr. Elizabeth MacMillan. She’s Phryne’s oldest and best friend. The two of them, and Helen, grew up together, before Phryne moved to England, but they always kept in touch and now Mac and Phryne are sort of raising Jane together, but for, reasons, it was easier for the legal paperwork to go in Phryne’s name.”

“You’ve known her three years?”

“Yeah.”

“You were married three years ago.” The tone of Jean’s voice made her implication very clear.

“Yes, and at that point, we weren’t even really friends. And then she had a Christmas Party that she invited me to, just after the divorce had come through, and I made an unholy idiot of myself, mum, and she was remarkably understanding about it, when I explained to her about the divorce, and she just listened to me mum, she just listened. And that was really, really, nice. And then we slowly became friends, and I started going round to her house after cases or sometimes for dinner, and at some point I realised that I liked her as, well, more than just a friend.”

“But she goes out with a different man every week Jack. Are you sure she’s not just stringing you along?”

“Mum, yeah, I’m sure. I know she has a bit of a, reputation for partying, and seeing lots of blokes…”

“There were pictures of her kissing Prince Harry at the Royal Wedding.”

“One picture, mum, one. Which, we have talked about. And please trust me, that whole, incident has been taken very much out of context. And even if it hadn’t, and she had genuinely been kissing Harry, then that would be none of anyone’s business, and certainly none of mine, because we weren’t seeing each other then.”

“She’s been in the papers recently with some bloke though, at some sort of charity fundraising thing?”

“About two weeks ago? Yeah. She went to that with Francois.”

“To be blunt Jack, how do you know she didn’t go home with him?”

Jack sighed. “Because to be blunt, mum, she came back to mine after she was finished being charitable for the evening.”

“Oh.” Jean was trying not to be shocked. She wasn’t sure she was succeeding. 

“She knows what happened with Rosie, mum: all of it. And she’s promised me that she never cheats on anyone she’s seeing. And I believe her, because she is, brutally, honest. And maybe this’ll all go wrong at some point, but I’m hopeful that we can make a go of it. But Phryne is really nervous about ongoing relationships. So we’re taking things really slowly. Which is why we’re only telling people about ‘us’ now, because it’s been a few months, and we’ve figured out that we do really like each other, and it was her idea for us to tell people, which I take as a good sign.”

Jack’s phone buzzed again:

 

**_Well? You can’t keep a girl in suspense like this!_ **

 

Jack smiled once more.

“Is that her?” Jean asked.

“Yes.”

“Was that her before?”

“Yes.”

“And what’s she doing at the moment?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Jack’s phone buzzed again; this was a Twitter notification.

 

**Dahlings! Trying to make a dress decision. Very difficult. Need advice. Melbourne, next Saturday, black tie. How posh should one go?**

 

“Ah, she’s inviting her Twitter followers to advise her about dresses for the ball next week...”

“Twitter followers?”

“Yes, all, erm, thirty-five thousand of them.”

“What?”

“Yes. Obviously that’s come down a bit since all the press stuff about her calmed down. It was at Fifty K just after she got back from London.”

Jean took a moment. 

Jack watched his mum taking it all in and took the opportunity to reply to Phryne.

 

**_Seems to be going OK. Think your 35K Twitter followers may have just thrown her somewhat! x Jack_ **

 

The sound of a key scrapping in the front door lock broke the silence. Jack smiled, ‘Tornado Lizzie’ was about to hit. Jack picked up his last piece of crackling, popped it into his mouth and sat back, waiting. The door to the kitchen was pushed open as Henry, Billy and Sally barrelled into the room.

“Uncle Jack!” Sally cried out, excitedly, running up to him and throwing herself at him bodily. Jack scooped his niece up and hugged her as she threw her arms around him. Jean immediately rose from her seat and started fussing after her two grandsons, kissing them enthusiastically and settling them into seats at the table. Jack settled Sally onto the seat next to him and helped the  girl to fill her plate with food.

Lizzie entered the room and smirked at her brother. “Jack. Managed to stop being busy I see?”

Jack raised an eyebrow and broke off his attentions towards his niece, standing up and hugging his sister enthusiastically. “Lizzie. I’m very well, thanks for asking.”

Lizzie narrowed her eyes at Jack, moving back to an empty chair and sitting down. As his nephews and niece tucked enthusiastically into their food, calm descended for a few minutes. Jack cleared his and his mum’s plates and sat down again to await dessert.

As she tackled scooping peas onto her fork, Sally turned to Jack. “Uncle Jack, mum says you’ve got a girlfriend.”

“Does she now? Well, yes, Sally, I suppose I do.” Jack smiled at his niece.

Sally nodded, shovelling the peas into her mouth as she did. Only a small number of them fell back onto the plate. “Is she nice?”

Jack smiled, “She is, yes.”

Sally considered this, scrunching her nose as she enthusiastically mopped a piece of pork through some gravy. “Okay,” the girl chewed her meat, “can we go and practice kicks?”

Jack sat back in his chair, visibly relaxing. “We can. But you have to eat your lunch first.”

Lizzie and Jean exchanged a glance. Perhaps, Jean mused, nothing else mattered if Jack liked this girl. Even if she was a Collingwood supporter. Jean tried not to consider what Jimmy would have thought about that as she handed Jack a bigger helping than usual of apple crumble.


	2. Saturday 6th August - The Firemans' and Policemans' Ball (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They shall go to the ball!

Sitting nervously on Phryne’s chaise, Jack worked the tips of his fingers into the top of his collar. Was it hot in here he wondered? Who even owned a chaise these days? How long was she going to be? On the sofa opposite him, Jane sat appraising him in a manner that was doing nothing to calm his already frayed nerves.

He’d seen Phryne’s tweet earlier in the day:

 

**“I shall go to the ball! Lovely Lynda @CurlUp &Dye sorting out the ‘do’ for this evening. #F&PB2011”**

 

He’d tried not to consider exactly how much trouble she was going to for an event that he was becoming increasingly concerned that he’d oversold. Jack tried not to think that she was going to an awful lot of trouble _ for him _ . That wasn’t Phryne’s style at all.

It was so long since he’d been, what if the whole thing had changed? What if someone asked him what had happened to Rosie? It wasn’t common knowledge, he thought, that he’d gone through a divorce; he’d played his cards close to his chest; maintained a professional demeanour at work and just got on with his job. Luckily he’d never had photos of Rosie, or him and Rosie, on his desk. 

Was this all a terrible mistake; inviting Phryne to his little work event? In April she’d been at a ball with Ambassadors and Princes. How were coppers and firemen supposed to compete with that? He’d just wanted to dance with her, properly: to be able to hold her close, in public. 

“So,” said Jane, breaking the silence which had descended shortly after Mr Butler had ushered Jack into the room with a small nod and what Jack was now thinking might have been a sympathetic smile, “you and Phryne are official now. About time, quite frankly.” 

Jack looked at the teenager, who had crossed her arms in what was managing to be a very aggressive manner, and whose facial expression indicated that she was not to be trifled with. It occurred to Jack that a teenage Phryne would probably have adopted a similar attitude. It terrified him. The look on Jane’s face suggested she was waiting for a response.

“Er, yes. Are you, OK with that?” Jack adjusted the collar of his shirt, again.  _ Was _ it hot in here? It seemed very hot in here. He was rescued by Mr Butler sweeping into the room and offering a silver tray with a glass on it to Jack.

“A cocktail, Sir?” he asked, a smile passing across his face momentarily.

Glancing at Jane, Jack observed her shrug non-committedly and sit back against the sofa cushion as she relaxed her posture.

Jack looked at the glass. He wasn’t sure what it contained, but decided to trust the older man’s judgement. “Thank you Mr Butler.” Jack said, with a small cough. He took a gentle sip, quirking his eyebrow as he did. The cocktail was excellent, as Jack had always suspected they would be.

Mr Butler bowed slightly and retreated once more as Jack heard footsteps on the stairs. Deciding he should probably stand up, he did so, moving over to lean against the fireplace, turning to face the lounge doors. A slightly heavier footstep indicated that Phryne appeared to have reached the bottom stair. There was a pause, which Jack thought lasted for an eternity, before Phryne moved into the doorway. 

Jack’s jaw dropped, at which point he became aware of the snapping of a camera lens. He glanced towards Jane, who had produced her phone from somewhere and appeared to have taken a shot of him with his mouth hanging open.

“Wow, you look amazing!” Jane said, turning towards and snapping a picture of Phryne.

Jack could only agree. Phryne was wearing a dress in bright red which hugged her absolutely everywhere. There was some sort of bow arrangement at her right shoulder, from which the bodice of the dress fanned out, skimming her breasts. The dress nipped in at the waist, the material forming a sort of belt, before the skirt hugged her hips as it cascaded towards the floor. She was wearing a choker style set of large white pearls, with matching drop earrings. Her hair had been gathered to her left side, soft curls cascading to her shoulder. He took her in, from head to toe and back again before his eyes met hers.

Phryne smiled and walked over to him. Taking his drink from him she downed the remaining contents, setting the glass down on the mantelpiece behind them.

“Will I do?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

Barely able to speak a coherent word, Jack gave the smallest of nods and bent his head to kiss her on the cheek.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then” she smouldered. 

Jack nodded, mutely. Her perfume smelt amazing.

“Stand together,” ordered Jane, rising from her seat on the sofa, snapping Jack out of his thoughts. Holding out her phone she prepared to take some photos. “Closer!” the girl urged.

Tentatively Jack wrapped an arm around Phryne’s waist, as Phryne turned towards him. Running a hand up the buttons of his shirt she whispered, “I do like a man in a tuxedo, Jack. And this is an excellent fit.”

“You are beautiful.” Jack replied, finally managing to say some words. They were barely adequate, he felt, to convey even a fraction of his feelings. Running his free hand to her cheek, he stroked the back of his fingers across her soft skin before leaning in to press his lips to her jawline, feeling her shiver slightly as he did. “We should go,” he murmured.

As they sat in the taxi Jack’s phone buzzed. Jane had tagged both of them in a tweet:

 

**Ah! @only1Phryne and @callmeJack off to the Fireman’s and Policeman’s Ball! Don’t they look cute? #F &PB2011**

 

He showed the Tweet to Phryne who smiled, a weary sort of smile that quirked her lips on one side of her mouth and no more. He was sure he saw her shake her head ever so slightly and hum, almost under her breath. She reached over and squeezed his hand as Cec continued to drive them to Melbourne Town Hall. The taxi pulled over on the corner where Collins Street and Swanston Street met. 

  
~~~~

 

Jack thought he was probably the luckiest man in the world, and was absolutely certain that Phryne would be the most beautiful woman in the room this evening. He hoped his dancing skills would not be too rusty; that he wouldn’t accidentally stand on Phryne’s feet. But first, they had to survive the dinner.

Jack and Phryne had been allocated seats on the ‘Homicide table’. Dot had squealed when she realised her and Hugh were on the same table as her boss and the Inspector. Jack shook Hugh’s hand enthusiastically, and noted with some confusion that his Constable looked nervous. Was he sweating too?

“Hugh. You all right?”

“Erm, yes, Sir. Fine, Sir.”

“You can call me Jack, Hugh. As we’re not in work.”

“Oh, absolutely, Jack.” Hugh swallowed nervously and patted his trouser pocket lightly, glancing over towards Dot who was excitedly chatting with Phryne.

“I hope Phryne won’t monopolise Miss Williams. I’m sure you’re looking forward to the dancing.”

Hugh just nodded, huffed out a breath and patted his pocket once more.

Clocking the repeated motion, Jack’s detective mind kicked into gear. “Remind me Hugh, how long have you and Miss Williams been seeing each other?”

“Erm, three years?” Hugh ventured.

“Hmm. And didn’t you just take your Sergeant’s exams?”

“I did, yes. I have to do a secondment to traffic soon, and then, if I did OK in the tests, I’m hoping to move up.”

Jack nodded as he considered this.

“And have you planned what you’re going to say? When you propose?”

Hugh looked like a goldfish that had been forcibly extracted from its bowl and was desperate to return to the safety of the water.

“Erm, er, how did you? What made you? How?” Jack saw the threatened bead of sweat manifest on Hugh’s forehead.

“No-one is as nervous as you are when it’s their third time with the same person at one of these things. And you keep on patting your pocket.”

“Oh,” replied Hugh, looking disheartened. “Do you think Dottie’s noticed?” Hugh whispered.

“I think she’s probably too excited about the event as a whole, and terribly distracted by the fact that I’ve brought her boss.”

“Do you think they’ll want to talk all night? I was hoping to get Dottie alone at some point.” Hugh checked his pocket once more.

“Well I have plans to thoroughly occupy Phryne during the formal dancing, and assuming the DJ is still Drake from Fire Station 18, they won’t be able to talk to each other over the volume of the disco anyway.”

Hugh nodded in acknowledgement. A brief silence fell. “I was thinking of a poem, maybe.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Or maybe something from Shakespeare.” Hugh added. “But I’m not sure what.”

Jack tilted his head slightly.

“For what my advice is worth Hugh, which may not be much... just... tell her how you feel. And be honest about what you want.”

Hugh nodded once more. “Right, thank you. I’ll, I’ll bear that in mind.”

At the top table someone banged a glass. Dinner was about to be served.

 

***************************************

 

The band played at a discreet volume as the guests ate their food. Phryne kept on sliding her hand across Jack’s thigh in between courses. He was finding it very distracting. 

Hugh had been seated to the other side of Phryne; Dot next to him. Next to Dot were two of the other constables from Homicide, who Phryne recognised from crime scenes. On Jack’s far side was a woman who had been introduced as Barbara, and her husband Andrew. During the soup course Phryne had learnt that ‘Barbara’ was in fact ‘DCI Hall’, and therefore Jack’s boss.

Jack had pointed out some of his colleagues during the dinner, and it was apparent that the tables were a deliberate mix of the ranks from the highest to the newest recruits. But this event was somehow, despite the hashtags, and the modern cuisine, very, very traditional. There was a top table with the highest ranking officers and the specially invited guests; Phryne had waved at [Alex Chernov](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alex_Chernov) as the main course was being cleared away and he’d nodded his head in acknowledgement. Jack had seemed quite unfazed about that; maybe he really was relaxing about the ‘aristocracy’ aspect of her life?

Between the main course and the dessert Jack moved Phryne’s hand onto the table, but made no move to break the contact. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other. Leaning into Phryne, Jack whispered into her ear. “Are you having a good time?”  

Phryne nodded; she really was enjoying herself. An appraisal of the room during dinner led Phryne to the conclusion that this was the opportunity to bring one’s spouse or serious partner ‘out on the town’. This didn’t feel how Phryne thought ‘serious’ would feel like; Ronnie had been ‘serious’ and it had been nothing like this. This, with Jack, wasn’t stifling in the least. It wasn’t dull, or repetitive. And she didn’t feel frightened. She was having fun, a lot of fun. It was surprising. But the small knot of fear that had lingered within her for so long, kept on gnawing away at her.

As dessert was cleared away, Phryne picked up the programme card and noted that dancing was next on the agenda. She smiled to herself; this was the part of the evening she had most been looking forward to. Could Jack dance? He had mentioned the dancing when he’d invited her, but that didn’t mean he would actually know what he was doing. If he didn’t, it would be a severe disappointment.

Clearing his throat nervously, Jack turned to Phryne and smiled, attempting to look more confident than he felt. “Would you care to dance?”

Trying not to smirk, Phryne nodded, placed her hand in Jack’s and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

Jack thanked his lucky stars that it was a waltz; a dance he had a degree of confidence with.  

“So Jack, you and Hugh looked like you were deep in conversation earlier?”

“Hmm…” Jack responded, deciding to remain vague.

“Discussing anything interesting?”

“A man must have some mysteries, Miss Fisher,” Jack said, raising an eyebrow as he led Phryne into a promenade.

“Indeed he must, Inspector,” Phryne elongated her pronunciation of Jack’s rank. “Such as, for example, how you know ballroom dancing.”

“Mmm…” replied Jack, bringing her slightly tighter into hold. “How do you know how to dance?”

“Compulsory aristocracy training,” replied Phryne with a twinkle in her eye.

“Are there badges?” Jack asked, a small smile forming at the edge of his lips.

Phryne laughed, “Well, there’s the avoidance of social disgrace. Not that I care about that too much. But mother does. And I’ve learnt to pick my battles.”

“So you go to a lot of balls then?” Jack asked, aiming to lighten the tone.

“Some. Melbourne has some.” Phryne paused as Jack led her diagonally across the dance floor. His hold on her was strong and steady, and she could feel the minute changes in pressure as he urged her to follow him from one step into another. “You’re a very good lead Jack. Which, I am disappointed to say, is a rare commodity in this city.”

Jack tried not to smile too broadly as he found himself wondering whether Phryne would ever ask her to accompany him to any of those events. Would his mum end up reading about him in the papers? Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to be in any sort of media spotlight. He much preferred being mostly anonymous, which also came in useful for his job.

The band drew the music to a brief pause. As they moved to the edge of the floor, Andrew approached them and smiled broadly at Phryne. “Would you do me the honour?” he asked.

Phryne loved a good dance, and Jack was a very good partner, but it would be unfair to keep him all to herself, or herself all to him. “Of course,” she beamed broadly and allowed Andrew to take her into a careful hold as the band continued playing.

They’d spoken during dinner about what they did, and established the fundamentals then. “A bit unusual, being a stay at home father.” Phryne said, picking up as if their last conversation had not ended an hour previously.

Andrew assessed Phryne. “I used to be a paediatric nurse. Loved it. But Barbara’s career was always going way further than mine ever would, and we wanted one of us to be there for the kids. I am more than happy to let my brilliant wife take the lead. Except on the dance floor, obviously.”

Phryne laughed. “Some traditions can’t be altered.”

“So how long have you been seeing Inspector Robinson?” Andrew continued as he manoeuvred Phryne to the far end of the room.

“About three months,” replied Phryne, with a smile.

“Gosh, he must have asked you to this fairly early on then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the tickets have been sold out for over a month.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. I get two months’ notice every year. Which just about gives me time to find a suitable child minder for the evening.”

Phryne smirked, “Well I’m sure that must be tricky, with three children.”

“I’ve roped my sister in. I expect to find the kids on a sugar high when we get home. Except the oldest, she’ll be sulking in her room, I’m sure.”

“How old is she?”

“Fourteen.”

“Ah. Yes, the teenage years present a lot of challenges.”

Andrew considered this for a moment before deciding to change the subject. “You’re remarkably easy to lead Miss Fisher.”

“Oh please call me Phryne. And I do admire a man who knows his way around a dance floor.” She batted her eyelids as Andrew increased his twirl rate.

Having seen his girlfriend trot off excitedly with his boss’ husband, Jack turned and smiled at DCI Hall.

“Oh go on then Jack,” said Barbara, as she allowed herself to be propelled across the dance floor. 

Jack held his superior carefully, maintaining a looser, more distant hold than with Phryne. 

“Good to see you back Jack.”

“Thank you.”

There was a pause as Barbara considered the Jack she’d borne witness to this evening. She didn’t think she’d seen him smile so much in years. Barbara had seen them both glance at each other and smile fondly; and they touched each other with the casual assuredness of long-term lovers.  The uninformed observer would conclude that they had been together for years, not merely months.

“Three months you’ve been seeing her?”

“Yes.”

“You seem so, comfortable, around each other.”

“Do we? Well, we have been friends for the last couple of years.”

“That must be it then.” Barbara glanced across the dance floor. Phryne was quite blatantly flirting with her husband. And Jack was quite plainly not concerned in the least. “You do seem very well suited. Now, I feel the need to reclaim my husband.”

Jack chuckled as he escorted Barbara over to Andrew and Phryne.

“Another turn about the floor, Inspector?” Phryne asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Always, Miss Fisher.” Jack swept Phryne onto the floor for what turned out to be an approximation of a foxtrot.

“Is it obsessive viewing of ‘Dancing with the Stars’ perhaps?” she asked after a minute, still trying to solve the mystery.

Jack quirked an eyebrow.

“The dance skills?”

“No.”

“Please tell me!”

“I could tell you, Miss Fisher, but where would the fun be in that?” Jack replied, slightly smugly. His tone softened as he drew Phryne closer to him. “Still enjoying yourself?”

“I am Jack. And I haven’t even begun to investigate the firemen yet.” A mischievous smile formed on Phryne’s lips.

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’d introduce you to the ones I know, but it’s been a few years since I came to this event…”

Phryne decided to gloss over that. “Well we’re both detectives Jack; I’m sure between us we can hunt down men who handle hoses.”

Jack tried not to snort. “And I’m sure you could help them handle their hoses.”

“Jack!” Her eyes dilated. “You know you’re the only man whose hose I’m handling,” she leaned in even closer and whispered into his ear, “and I intend to handle you very thoroughly later.”

As he was trying not to laugh the music changed, the band settling on a slow number to finish their section of the evening.

Pulling Phryne into a very close hold, Jack abandoned his attempts to impress with dance steps and just held her as they swayed to the tune. 

“A shame they haven’t played a tango” Phryne commented.

Jack successfully managed to maintain his aura of confidence. “I’m glad they haven’t. There are some dances I’m not prepared to undertake in public.”

“Does that mean I can look forward to a private tango at some point in the future, Inspector?”

“At some point, yes. But I wouldn’t like to give you advance notice. A tango should be spontaneous.”

Phryne smiled at Jack brightly. Oh she did like it when he dangled intriguing little carrots like that into their conversation,

She was so lovely, Jack still couldn’t quite believe that she had agreed to come with him this evening. But she was also a tease, and Jack was determined not to retreat from their flirting just because they were together. “You are an absolute minx, you know that?”

“Is that a problem Jack?”

“Absolutely not Phryne. I lo…” Jack stopped himself. The mood between them suddenly changed. He shouldn’t use that word to Phryne, even if the context was not a declaration. Instead he spoke quietly, seriously, to try to impart to Phryne how deeply he felt without scaring her off. “I like it. I like you. An awful lot.” He met her gaze as he felt Phryne’s hands thread around his neck.

“And I like you Jack, an awful lot.” Oh god, she thought he’d almost said the word. It was slightly less panic inducing than she had thought it would be, but she felt her skin prickle nevertheless.

“I want to kiss you, so much.” Jack’s words interrupted Phryne’s thoughts. She looked around; the room was packed, and Jack was a very private person, she had been pushing him with the stroking of his thigh during dinner, she knew. As much as she didn’t care about kissing him in the middle of the floor, in front of his boss and his colleagues, she rather thought that he would.

Taking a step back, Phryne loosened her hands from around Jack’s neck, took his hand in hers and gently led him off the dance floor, collecting her purse from their table as they went. Ascending a small flight of stairs they emerged onto a generous terrace space overlooking Swanston Street.

The terrace had been decked out with small tables, with fairy lights providing a dim glow amongst the darkness. The area was mercifully empty, but still Phryne pulled Jack into one of the dark corners near the doors – a casual passer-by would fail to see them, affording them a modicum of privacy. Leaning back against the wall, Phryne pulled Jack closely to her and wrapped her arms around his back.

“So kiss me, Jack” she whispered, almost shyly.

“Never let it be said that I left Phryne Fisher wanting,” murmured Jack, slipping an arm around her back, the other resting on her hip.

Dipping his head, Jack’s lips met Phryne’s. Gently, at first, their lips brushed together, before he moved his hand from her hip to rest carefully against her hair.  He deepened the kiss and felt Phryne’s arms move from his back, down and inside his jacket, to rest against his back. Jack was becoming lost in the feel of Phryne’s dress against the hand which was pressed against her back. The material was so smooth, and it skimmed her body so carefully. Just as he was considering whether it was too early for them to quietly leave and return to her home, the doors to the terrace burst open. Jack froze, his lips squashed against Phryne’s.

Pulling away from her as he opened his eyes, Jack carefully turned his head to see who had interrupted them.

On the terrace, Hugh pulled Dot towards him and carefully kissed her cheek before steering her towards one of the small tables. Jack saw Hugh swallow and adjust his collar as he held a chair out.

“Do you think we can sneak out without them seeing us?” whispered Phryne.

“Not with how jumpy Collins is.”

“Do you think they’ll be long?”

“Depends on how long Collins takes…”

“I’m exceptionally liberally-minded Jack, as you know…”

“That’s not what’s happening Phryne. Do you have your phone?” Jack asked, an idea suddenly occurring to him.

“Yes?” replied Phryne, somewhat confused.

“Great. Give me your purse, rest your phone on my shoulder and video this.” He nodded his head towards the young couple.

“Jack?”

“Trust me.”

Still confused, Phryne removed her hands from Jack’s back, scrabbling in her purse for her phone. Jack took the small bag from her, attempting to flatten his shoulder as Phryne found the phone and fiddled for the camera.

“Why am I videoing my PA and your Constable?”

“Because I know what’s about to happen, and Dot strikes me as the sort of young lady who will want to relive this later.” Jack said, with confidence. “Now unless you want them to hear our conversation…”

Deciding that there was something interesting happening, Phryne acquiesced and pressed ‘record’ on the video function, using Jack’s shoulder as a makeshift tripod.

Over at the small table, Hugh Collins was fervently wishing that he’d practised this much more than he had. He helped Dot into the chair as he checked his pocket for the small box once more.

He tried not to wince as he dragged another chair closer to Dot’s, wishing it wouldn’t make the scraping sound it was. Placing his hand in his pocket he dug about; where was the paper? He’d had a piece of paper earlier that he’d written some prompts on, and now he couldn’t find it.

He decided to buy himself a moment and grasped for the box in his pocket instead. That, mercifully, was still there.

“Dot, I have some questions for you, if that’s OK?”

Dot nodded, she could feel her heart beating rapidly. Was this it? This felt like it might be it. Dot tried to mentally practice her ‘surprised but pleased’ face. 

“How are you enjoying the evening?”

Dot was confused. What was he doing? Was this not it? It had been three years now, and this was practically their anniversary. It would be perfect. Was this not what was happening? “I’m.., yes, I’m enjoying it just fine…It’s fine.”

OK, she looked…surprised? Was that surprise or confusion? Hugh couldn’t be sure. “Good, that’s good,” Hugh’s voice was higher pitched than he wanted it to be. “Aren’t the stars pretty, Dottie? Just like you…”

“I don’t know Hugh, I can’t really see them from here.”

“Oh, oh, right. Erm…”

“Hugh, Hugh.” Dot smiled, Hugh did have a tendency to get flustered when he was nervous. “Please, Hugh, stop worrying.” Taking Hugh’s hand in hers, Dot smiled once more, staying silent to allow Hugh to compose himself.

He swallowed, twice, before he began to speak again, “Dottie, I love you, I love you so much,” Hugh smiled, and moved himself off the chair until he was kneeling on the ground.

Dot resisted the urge to scream with delight. This was it!

Hugh continued. “Because, you make everything alright, and because I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it, would you do me the honour of being my wife?” Hugh forced himself to stop speaking as he offered the ring to Dot.

Finding herself suddenly unable to speak the word she’d been practising for some time, Dot nodded, mutely, before the word “yes” slipped from her lips, practically inaudible over the noise wafting from the dance floor.

"You will?” a momentary sense of fear overwhelmed him, that he was perhaps imagining her acceptance.

“Yes.” Dot said, nodding fiercely now as she found her voice. Pulling Hugh towards her she kissed him passionately, her joy intensifying the love she felt for him.

Breaking the kiss Hugh carefully removed the ring from its box and slid it on Dot’s finger. “It fits,” he said, in both joy and relief. Hugh pulled himself back up onto his chair and pulled Dot towards him. Cupping her jaw in his hands he kissed her, all his hesitation and fear evaporating as he did so.

“Now that, Hugh Collins, was just perfect,” whispered Phryne in the darkened corner, as she paused the video recording,. Turning to look at Jack she felt compelled to ask, “How did you know?”

“I’m a very good detective, Phryne,” Jack paused before continuing, still speaking quietly. “He was sweating profusely when we arrived and checking his pockets like a man possessed. Not a difficult call.”

“We should leave them. I don’t think they’ll be coming up for air anytime soon.”

“Yes, let’s sneak off now.” Jack agreed. They quietly slipped through the doors leading them back towards the main ballroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In August 2011, Alex Chernov was the Governor of Victoria


	3. Saturday 6th August - The Firemans' and Policemans' Ball (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ball draws to a close, and Phryne has some questions for Jack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first hints that not everything in Phryne's past is sunny and lovely. As far as I can tell, nothing triggering here as yet though.

They passed through the ballroom and into the bar area. A display was set up behind the table for the silent auction. Jack reached his hand out to greet a man whose name badge identified him as being part of the TPA executive. 

Feeling that she needed a moment, and needed it now, Phryne seized the opportunity. “Well, you two must catch up, I was just going to freshen up. Please excuse me.” Phryne gave Jack a small peck on the cheek, smiled at the other man and moved off towards the ladies room. She could hear the conversation between them as she hurried away.

“Jack, good to see you, how’s the leg?”

“Not bad Greg, thanks…”

“Good. Well, plainly we have a lot to catch up on...”

 

***********************************

 

Whoever had set up this event knew what they were doing, Phryne mused. They had provided a large room directly next door to the ladies’ restroom, and set out sofas, armchairs and mirrors in generous numbers. The space was teeming with women checking their hair, fixing their make up, and even engaging in some remarkably unsubtle gossiping. She had settled herself in one of the armchairs, and was allowing her mind to wander through the events of the evening so far. Her mind settled on Jack: Jack loved her, and she thought he wanted to make some sort of sweeping declaration. But he kept on stopping himself. Unusually for her, she wasn’t sure she didn’t want him to just say something. And she didn’t want to run; she didn’t want to stop seeing him. She wanted to be with him. He was, fun, which was more surprising than it should have been. And the sex was amazing, especially now he’d got over his reticence to just bury his head between her thighs and employ his tongue to exceptionally effective use. But how did you know if you loved someone? 

As she was moving through the room, Barbara noticed Phryne sat on one of the armchairs, a table next to her with her handbag on it. She was rotating her phone around in her hand, seemingly deep in thought.

“Hello. Everything all right?” Barbara asked Phryne.

Looking up, breaking out of her daze, Phryne smiled automatically. “Hmm? Oh, yes, fine, thank you.”

Barbara quietly took a seat on the other side of the small table.

“I’ve just watched my PA get engaged.” Phryne said, deciding to try to steer the conversation to safe ground.

“Dot? Oh I wondered why Collins was looking even more nervous than he usually does. Bless him. Oh well that’s lovely.”

“It is. And they’re so obviously in love, aren’t they?” Phryne felt like that should be a statement more than the question it had emerged as.

“They are, they really very obviously are.” Barbara couldn’t argue with that point, but there seemed to be something troubling Phryne. She had decided that she liked this woman; she certainly liked the way she helped the squad’s statistics. And Jack deserved some happiness, after, well, whatever it was that had happened with his wife.

“Love. It’s such a small word, isn’t it, but it comes with so much, meaning.” Phryne broke her silence to speak. 

“Yes.” Barbara spoke quietly. She wasn’t sure that Phryne was really talking to her as she rotated the phone around in her fingers again. 

“I have a terrible ex. He’s in jail.” Phryne blurted out.

“Ah.” Barbara tried to keep any hint of surprise out of her reaction.

“He told me he loved me. And I parrotted it back, as you do, when you’re young, and think you know everything. And… he used it against me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Phryne tapped the phone against her chin. “And now Jack. I think, maybe... But I don’t know. Because it feels different than with…”

“Your terrible ex?”

“Yes. But I don’t know how you know. And the internet was useless when I did a search.”

Barbara tried not to laugh at that, and surprised herself by failing only slightly. She considered her response for a minute before she spoke. When she did so, it was quietly, but with conviction. “I’ve known Jack for, five years, since I got moved over to SKR. He’s a damned fine copper. Professional. To the letter. By the book. And he keeps his private life very private. He rarely lets his emotions show. But we all knew when things got bad with Rosie, because he got even quieter, even more withdrawn, if that was possible.” She paused again, considering her next words. “He told me about you two weeks ago. In a conversation that I’m fairly sure he found excruciating.”

“He wanted my help on that case at the Spiritualist place.”

“Yes. And as I watched him wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, I realised that it should have been obvious, to a team of brilliant detectives, that Jack is happy again. With you. And you seem extraordinarily happy with him. The way the two of you look at each other… And I think ‘love’ is a choice, as much as a feeling. You can choose to be in love with someone. If there’s some sort of foundation of, well, feelings, and compatibility, of course.”

“I thought it was all supposed to be so certain. Jane says you feel all fizzy and tingly inside.”

“The teenager?”

“Yes.”

“Who you’re looking after voluntarily? That was a choice you made, to be there for her?”

“Of course.” Phryne was relieved that they seemed to have moved to safer ground once more.

“And did you know what you were doing?”

“Not a clue.”

“And I take it she’s working out OK? I don’t seem to recognise her name as one of our city’s young trouble makers?”

“She’s very good. We’ve sort of worked it out together.”

“Well there you go then. That was a choice you made. And teenagers are an awful lot harder than men.” 

Phryne smiled at that. 

Barbara paused before she spoke again. “Does Jack know about the terrible ex?”

“A little. Some of it.” Phryne looked over towards Barbara.

Barbara gave a head tilt so similar to one of Jack’s that Phryne wondered whether there was a VPF training course for it. “You know, I think it's fine to say, ‘I think I love you, but this is all new to me, and I don’t really know what I’m doing’. You can work it out together. You shouldn’t be afraid to trust him.”

There was a pause. Phryne suddenly realised that Barbara was Jack’s superior officer. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. Why am I telling you this?”

Barbara smiled. “You’re in a relatively confined space with a copper, and you feel the need to unburden yourself. There might as well be a notice about your rights on the wall.”

“And I’ve had quite a bit of wine.”

“We all have.” Barbara paused and looked at Phryne carefully before she spoke again. “So, do you? Feel all ‘fizzy and tingly inside’?”

Phryne smiled. “I sort of do. I’m thirty-bloody-five, and I sometimes feel like a teenager when I’m with him!”

Barbara smiled again, “My Andy makes me feel like that. Even after twenty years. He’ll look at me, and smile, and I go all gooey inside. Me, the woman who arrests thirty stone men for doing terrible things, and takes them down without flinching.”

There was a pause again. “I’m… I don’t want to lose myself. To become that little tiny person who swallowed all the bullshit because ‘but he loves me’…”

“Can I be blunt? I’ve known you for about four hours, and I’m fairly sure you’d not tolerate anyone who tried that crap on you. How long ago was the terrible ex?”

“It was finally over, what, twelve years ago?”

“Everyone changes in that time. Look at you; running a business, raising a teenager, lots of other things as well I expect. How many of those could you have foreseen back then? What was Jack doing twelve years ago?”

Phryne thought for a few seconds. “I think he was just getting married to Rosie. Assuming it was all going to be happily ever after. He would have been a Constable, I think.”

“And look at him now; the dashing Inspector, desperate to whisk you around the dance floor. It might not have been what he thought his life would look like, but it looks like he’s having a good time. Do you think he’d have had any idea? None of us is who we were in the past. We’re always all changing.” Barbara’s phone buzzed. “Ah, Andy wants to know if I’ve hoofed it out of the window. I should get back to him.”

 

~~~~

 

**“Having an amazing night @PoliceAssocVic #F &PB2011. Must go and find @callmeJack – he’ll think I’ve abandoned him!”**

 

~~~~

 

In the main room Dot and Hugh were still receiving congratulations from Hugh’s force colleagues and their partners. Dot spotted Phryne and dashed over, displaying her ring proudly. As Phryne hugged her assistant she scanned the room, spotting Jack who was still talking to Greg.

Sashaying gracefully across to the display she considered the contents of the various leaflets. For all that it was probably an anachronism in the 21st Century, the Ball had a purpose that was all too relevant. Dot had told her during the week that the ticket proceeds and monies raised went to The Police Association and The Firefighter’s Union, as well as their respective legacy funds. Phryne hadn’t really thought too much about how dangerous Jack’s job could be. Even the scar on his leg had been discussed somewhat light-heartedly, and without her really thinking through the consequences if that woman had managed to connect with greater force, or at a slightly different angle. Phryne considered the silent auction lots and pledged a Thousand Dollars for a weekend break at one of The Police Association's holiday cottages, deciding that if she won she’d gift it to Dot and Hugh as an engagement present. 

 

*************************************

 

Phryne pushed Jack in the direction of the lounge. “Make yourself comfortable Jack. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Jack looked around him. The piano was very tempting. It had been years since he’d played. Perhaps just a few notes? Settling himself on the bench, he raised the lid of the instrument and experimentally flexed the joints in his hand before resting the pads of his fingers on the keys, and began to softly play.

In the kitchen Phryne examined the wall unit which held the glassware intently. “ Life is not meant to be about closing yourself off for fear of getting hurt,” she said to a row of champagne flutes, remembering her conversation with Harry from months earlier, “you just have to let it exist,” she added. The time had flown since she had returned from London.  Her mind flitted back to the conversation with Barbara. Twelve years was a very long time, and she didn’t want Ronnie to still be the shadow casting a gloom over her future. Perhaps, she mused as she retrieved two large tumblers, she had allowed herself to use him as an excuse? She had always told herself that she was free of him, out of his grasp, beholden to him no more. Was that really true if she allowed her long dead relationship with him to dissuade her from being with someone properly; from being with Jack entirely?

All the men she had known since then had been lovely; wholly pleasant diversions, a marvellous way to kill some time and satisfy her. None of them had ever been in contention for semi-permanence. None of them had made her feel the way Jack did. She had chosen all of them, but chosen not to be with them. All so different: to each other; to Ronnie. Jack was different, wasn’t he? A concern flitted through Phryne’s sub-conscious; they would have to talk. She would actually have to tell him. She picked up her phone and quickly texted Mac.

 

**_Bollocks_ **

 

**_This had better be good, it is very fucking late_ **

 

**_I’m going to have to tell Jack everything about Ronnie aren’t I?_ **

 

**_Yes you are. And sooner rather than later if you are as serious about him as I think you are. Don’t be scared. I love you. Good night xoxo_ **

 

They had been having such a lovely night; but best to ask questions now, before she allowed herself to entirely lose all reason. If she allowed this to go on much longer, and he turned out to be just the same she would never forgive herself for falling into the same trap again.

As she moved back towards the lounge, she heard her piano. Stopping in the hallway she listened as Jack played. Not bad. Not brilliant, but the tune was recognisable, if occasionally stilted as he obviously tried to recall the next note.

Emerging from the darkened hallway Phryne smiled at Jack as she moved to the cabinet where the whisky lived. As she filled their glasses, Jack stopped playing.

“Sorry,” he half-smiled, apologetic for the abuse he had directed towards her piano.

“No, no. I never knew you played Jack.”

“It’s been… a terribly long time. I’m surprised I could remember which note is which…” he replied, shrugging in apology once more.

“Can I ask you about something?” Phryne said as she sat on the bench next to Jack. Best to just dive straight in, she thought.

“Of course,” said Jack, smiling as he accepted the offered tumbler.

“Our last case…”

“Yes?”

Phryne considered her question. “You got angry. And you punched the wall.”

“Yes?” Jack was not entirely sure where Phryne was going with this. He winced as he remembered the jolt of pain that had ricocheted up his arm. 

“Do you often get angry and punch walls?”

A quizzical look crossed Jack’s face. He regretted punching the wall. Especially in front of Phryne. It didn’t paint him in a very positive light, he realised that. He did try not to let his emotions overwhelm him to that extent anymore, but he had been so taken by surprise that he had momentarily lost his composure. His brow furrowed as he considered how to answer.

“How often do you get that angry, Jack?” Phryne was determined to receive an answer.

“Erm. Three times. Three times I have punched a wall in anger.” He was still unsure why Phryne was asking, but it seemed to be important to her. 

“Tell me about them?”

Jack glanced at Phryne who had a look of great focus on her face. She already knew, now, the background to the incidents that had caused him to act that way, which at least meant he wouldn’t have to tell both stories in full. “The first time, was the day my dad died.” 

Jack took a gulp of his whisky. “My mum was crying, and Kath was crying, and my gran came round and comforted them. When she wasn’t crying too. And I didn’t know what to do; how to fix it and make everything better. So when mum and Kath were hugging each other, I went upstairs to my room, and shut the door, and paced up and down, and then I sat on my bed and I just got more and more, wound up, with the unfairness of it all, and, I suppose because it was so sudden I was in shock, and I didn’t know what to do. And I knew that men weren’t supposed to cry. And I didn’t want to seem like a child. And after half an hour of becoming more and more frustrated I just found myself lashing out and punching the wall above my bed. I had to cover the hole with a poster until I got get Eddie to help me fix it when he came home that weekend.”

Phryne considered this. “So, anger, frustration, grief. Well, that’s understandable, I suppose. How do you feel about men crying now?”

“Well now I realise that it’s fine. But it was the eighties Phryne; it was a less enlightened time.”

He took her hand in his, and attempted a smile. Phryne squeezed his hand in return. 

“OK. The second time?”

Jack gathered himself, the brace before he spoke visible. “About thirty seconds after I kicked Rosie out of our house.”

“Ah.”

“Indeed. That one required the assistance of my mate Jay before I could put the house on the market.”

“And our recent case?”

“Frustration. Again. That she’d hit a nerve, knocked me out of my investigation, brought up a painful memory.”

“So when you get frustrated you lash out and hit walls?”

“I do try not to.” There was a pause as Jack considered how to explain. “Fifteen year old me had no idea how to cope. The me that saw my wife fucking a bloke I had considered to be a friend had a better understanding of my reactions. But yes, I still punched the wall. Stupid really. But I didn’t drown my sorrows. Not then, anyway. So when I went into work the next morning I called up the helpline and booked in one of their sessions with my shrink.”

“Your shrink?”

“Phryne, you’ve been on some of my cases. For all that you might think I’m very repressed, and serious and dour, I do actually get very emotionally involved sometimes. I have actually learnt how to release my frustrations in non-wall hitting ways. I don’t solve every case I run, which I regret. It’s draining, emotionally, and physically, but if I allowed all that to overwhelm me, I’d be an absolute wreck. And the PA execs and the top brass have negotiated, over the years, and there’s a recognition that it’s no good if they lose officers because we allowed it all to get on top of us and we just, had a complete meltdown; we’re expensive to train, if nothing else. So we have to see a shrink, regularly. It does help, well, I think so. Gives you another way to think about things, someone you can just talk to, without having to censor any of the, brutal bits.”

“How often do you go?”

“In Homicide? Four times a year. That’s the requirement. It’s different for other departments. And, if you want to go more often, then, well, The PA have a scheme where you can see the same person. Which helps. You’re not having to start from scratch. And that’s what I used after Rosie had left, and that’s what I used a few weeks ago; a PA session.”

“I am so, surprised that you see a shrink.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Why? It’s healthier to talk it all out than to bottle it all up.”

“But your degree…”

“Is different, as you well know. I won’t deny, if there’s spare time at the end of one of our sessions, that we will sometimes talk about new theories, or classic approaches, but I usually find I have more than enough to talk about. Unfortunately.”

“Four times a year?”

“Yes.”

“So, you would seen her since we started… this. Even without your bonus booking” Phryne gestured between them.

“Erm, yes.”

“Have you talked about me?”

“Phryne…” there was a warning note in Jack’s tone.

“I’m interested!”

“Which is… lovely. But I am absolutely not telling you, even generally, about anything I have discussed with her.”

“I’m still going to ask you about it.” There was a pause as Phryne considered her next question. She didn’t want to pry, as such, but she wanted more reassurance still. “Why did you see her after that spiritualist case?”

“Because I recognised that I’d allowed myself to become angry, and frustrated, and that my anger had manifested itself in a way that was… unacceptable. It was like I was back there, being fifteen, and with other people trying to tell me what to do, and how to behave. I’m not sure I’m explaining this very well. She just, got to me, in a way that I didn’t think was a problem anymore. I keep my work and my personal life separate, and it felt like she’d ripped a massive hole in that.”

“Hmm,” Phryne considered Jack’s revelations. “You keep your work and your personal life separate?”

“I try to. You’re plundering my boundaries regularly.” Jack smiled. “Phryne, what is this about?”

“Just… Ghosts…”

“I don’t understand…” There was so much about Phryne he still found mysterious. She seemed to move towards sharing something with him, only to then retreat. She’d promised to explain her statement that she apparently did ‘serious’ relationships more than she thought she did, but she still hadn’t explained yet. To be fair, Jack mused, he had not actually asked for the explanation. What were the ‘ghosts’ she was talking about now? Why all the questions about him hitting walls? 

“Hmm… Oh… It's fine, Jack. I’ll… explain more, sometime.” Phryne smiled brightly as she took a swig of her whisky. “Now, tell me how where you learnt to play the piano. You have been keeping this from me!” Phryne ran her fingers along the lapels of Jack’s jacket, her nimble fingers quickly loosening his bow tie, sliding it free from around his neck, and dangling the scrap of material above the top of the piano, before allowing it to flutter to rest.

Recognising that the tone between them had flipped Jack considered whether to follow Phryne’s lead. He reopened the lid of the piano and positioned his fingers carefully over the keys. “Would you like me to try again?”

“More than anything,” Phryne responded, pressing her lips gently to Jack’s cheek.

“Well, you know what they say” mused Jack “If music be the food…” he stopped himself short. Damn it, he had to stop allowing his mouth to run away with his thoughts. 

“Of love?” replied Phryne, her voice cracking only a little. She smiled, “play on, Jack.”

For a few minutes Jack played the piano, watching Phryne as she appeared to relax. He was still confused; she had that ‘case solving in progress’ look again. 

As he played, Phryne considered everything Jack had said. Probably  _ not _ actually violent then, she considered; and no real hints of an addictive personality. He occasionally drank a little too much; the spectacular meltdown at her Christmas Party the other year the most obvious example. Jane had related that he had been very angry indeed the evening when all the press nonsense had arisen. He hadn’t hit a wall then; she trusted that he’d have said if he had, and Jane had related that he’d gone a violent shade of red and shouted at Collins, before appearing to calm himself down. The question, she supposed, was one of whether she felt safe with him. She did, she realised. 

But how did they move forward from here? Jack was using words that usually made her flee, but she didn’t want to. If she could explain her reluctance; her fear; her hesitation, maybe he’d not be weird about it? Or perhaps he’d treat her differently; see her as needing him somehow. She was not willing to go down that path. And so, Phryne determined, she would say nothing and they could just go on as they were. If he wasn’t going to say anything, she definitely wasn’t. 

His playing was… remarkably adequate… Phryne wondered when he had last had an opportunity to practice?

Jack came to the end of the tune, skimming his fingers over the keys gently the sound faded. Carefully he shut the lid of the piano, turning towards Phryne.

Phryne batted her eyelids at him. Considering that he might not know what the hell was going on, but that Phryne was employing her tactic of flirting her way out of an awkward situation, Jack picked up his tumbler and drank the remaining contents. He was quite sure he didn’t want them to fall into a habit of either of them using sex to divert from difficult topics. Briefly he considered that he was probably a fool. What other man would ever deflect Phryne’s advances? The point was, Jack reminded himself, that he was trying to set himself apart from all of the other men who had been in her life: to show her that he could have fun, but be serious; be with her without being demanding; love her without stifling her; be with her without them having to have sex every time they saw each other. He was fairly sure that a lot of the other men had only ever seen her as a sex object. And she was, obviously, damned sexy, but Jack loved her for her brain, as well as her body. She was just so, clever, and tenacious, and dogged in her pursuit of answers when she was on a case. 

“What do you say we get you upstairs, and out of this dress?” He asked, standing up from the piano bench and extending his hand towards her. 

“An excellent idea Jack.” Phryne smouldered and wiggled her hips suggestively as she rose from the piano bench. 

 

~~~~

 

Jack briefly froze before recomposing himself. The dress had come off remarkably easily. “You are not wearing a bra.”

“I’m not.”

“Or knickers.”

“Well observed Jack.”

“Please tell me you were, in fact, wearing knickers tonight, and that you just took them off when you were in your kitchen?” 

“I could confirm, or deny. But where would the fun be in that?” she teased him. “It’s surely much more fun to let you wonder…?”

“Oh god.” He’d never know exactly what to expect from her, he was coming to realise that. She was so outrageously flirtatious, and so much fun, and so, so  damned sexy. And serious, when she needed to be, or wanted to be. He was; he was an absolute fool. But they hadn’t had sex the other week when he’d stayed after they’d talked about his dad, and he thought that Phryne might be slightly emotionally vulnerable tonight. She had certainly seemed a bit shaky and distracted in the taxi on the way home. She had been really thoughtful with him that evening, and whatever she was working through he wanted to be there for her without her feeling compromised.

She yawned. 

Jack took a step back and turned to the chair in the corner of her room, rooting around in his bag until he found his Academy T-Shirt; the one he’d leant her the day she’d got back from London. Jack thought that Phryne might be revealing more of herself to him than she usually did with people. He was coming to realise; had come to realise some time ago in fact, that the public persona and the private person were very different. He supposed he managed that separation himself; he knew he was sometimes labelled as ‘dour’ at work, but his work was serious, life changing stuff; it felt inappropriate to be in any way flippant in his approach. He thought he was much more fun outside of work. Tonight, he supposed, had been a strange hybrid between the two. 

“Arms up” he encouraged as he moved back to her.

“Jack?”

“As absolutely ravishingly beautiful as you are Phryne, it is very late, and you just yawned, and I’m very tired too. I didn’t realise how much this evening was going to take out of me. So, I think we should just go to sleep?” He pulled the T-shirt down over her body, his hands skimming the sides of her body. Yes, definitely an absolute idiot. But there was always the morning, he considered. By then the T-shirt would smell of her again. Not that he’d sniffed it last time. Who was he kidding? He’d practically inhaled the scent of her from where it had lingered on the soft cotton...

“Jack?” Was that sound disappointment, confusion or worry?

“I love sleeping with you, Phryne. Just sleeping. All curled up together, yeah?” He pressed a kiss to her temple; she seemed like she needed reassurance. 

“Alright. But aren’t you over-dressed?” He was right, she was very tired; there had barely even been a hint of teasing in that remark. And there was so much churning through her mind. 

“Give me two minutes.” Quickly but carefully Jack took his clothes off, folding them over the chair. He moved back to the bed once he was down to his briefs, helping Phryne scoot under the covers. 

“Do I take it you like me in this T-shirt?” she asked.

“I like you in everything Phryne. I like you in nothing. But yes, I like this on you.” he scooped Phryne into his side and kissed her shoulder as she settled herself in the bed. 

“Can I just say that you’ll never get me in the uniform. Not unless you cuff me.” She pressed her back into his chest.

Jack tried not to laugh, and pressed his lips to Phryne’s shoulder once more. “Noted. The T-shirt doesn’t count as uniform though.”

They fell into silence, and Jack reached behind himself to turn off the lamp, snuggling back into Phryne after the room was plunged into darkness.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight Phryne.” Jack said, quietly.

“Thanks for inviting me. Next year, ask me earlier.” Phryne’s voice faded as sleep overtook her.

Jack wasn’t sure she realised what she’d said. 


	4. Monday 8th August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack Robinson - man of mystery...

Jack waited for the phone to be answered.

“Well hello Jack!”

“Hello Bree. How are you?”

“I’m good. How was it?”

“Great, it was really great. Thanks.”

“She liked the waltz?”

“She seemed to. And I made a stab at a foxtrot.”

“Oh, good for you. I’m so proud.”

“I need to ask a favour.”

“Go on Jack.”

“Can you teach me to tango?”


	5. Saturday 27th August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fast car. A racing track. 
> 
> A Robinson family gathering.
> 
> What could possibly go wrong...

Jack steeled himself against the edge of the table, raising a hand to his face, briefly covering his eyes before sweeping his palm downwards in an attempt to compose himself. Tentatively he lifted the sheet; knowing now that he was indeed too late. He hoped they’d been respectful.

As he looked at the woman lying motionless before him, a puzzled expression formed on his face. Blinking back the tears which had been threatening since they’d passed Moonee Ponds, Jack tried to focus, to bring his mind to the here and now, rather than the ‘could have been’. This was all wrong.

“Phryne?”

Piercing through the fog rapidly engulfing his mind, Jack was sure he could hear a sniffling sound.

“Jack?”

It was small and quiet, almost a whisper. Jack blinked again, managing to focus his eyes properly this time.

“Phryne?” he repeated, his confusion mounting.

“Jack? What…?” That was her voice: he would know it anywhere. The, well, corpse, had not made the sound. Which was good, Jack mused, somewhere in the recess of his mind. It was the hair, he realised; the hair was all wrong.

The sniffing sound pierced the fog again. Jack looked around him, but couldn’t see any source for the sound. He moved around the table and was fairly sure he felt his heart stop. Curled up on the floor, her back against one of the legs of the table, with her knees pulled to her chest she looked tiny.

“Phryne!” Jack dropped to his knees beside her, reaching out and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to him. “Oh thank god, thank god…”

“Jack?” she replied, sniffling half-way through.

“I thought it was you…”

“What…”

“Fucking Collins…”

“What?”

“Fucking Collins, who I will be having a fucking word with about giving messages with fucking clarity, rang me and implied that it was you…”

“What was me?”

“The… accident. He just said… well, I just heard…’accident’ and ‘Miss Fisher’…and… ‘Calder Park’… and I thought, oh god I thought it was you, and I was just willing you, to hold on, so I could at least get here…”

“You thought I was in an accident?”

“Yes…”

“I’m fine, Jack.”

Jack could hear the torrent of words leaving his mouth, but found he was utterly unable to stop speaking. “And I just thought, I just thought… I love you, Phryne, and I thought I was never going to get the chance to tell you.”

Silence fell, broken only by the occasional sniff from Phryne. Trying to control her breathing, and her tears, she felt herself starting to shake. She fought every impulse within her to just get up and run, forcing herself to remain still. There was absolutely no way she was going to be able to pretend she hadn’t heard that.

Jack felt her tremble then stiffen slightly in his arms. Of course. He had, as he had feared, been deluding himself. “I just… I wanted to tell you…Phryne… I’m not expecting… Of course you don’t… It’s fine, really… If you… don’t… Right, sorry…” Jack moved to disentangle himself from around Phryne and was somewhat surprised by her grip on his arm tightening. “Phryne?” 

“I think my friend was murdered.”

************************

“You’d be Senior Constable Collins?”

“I am Sir, yes.”

“Is there, I dunno, a waiting room or something? I can’t pace up and down out here for however long he’s in there.”

“Ah yes, absolutely Sir. We’ve put the rest of the ladies in the next room along Sir, whilst we wait for the coroner.”

Grimacing slightly, the man who had run in after Jack took a deep breath and entered the room Collins had indicated to him. He glanced around the space. It was occupied entirely by women, most of whom were crying. There was an empty seat next to a red-haired woman, who was more composed than the others. The man sat on the chair, running his hands over his thighs in a bid to calm himself. This was absolutely the last thing Jack needed today.

“You’re not a copper.” The red-haired woman said after what felt like an eternity.

“Sorry?”

“I said; you’re not a copper. But you do seem familiar. Have we met?”

“Unlikely. I’m from Adelaide.”

“Bit far from home then?”

“Depends how you define ‘home’.”

“Wherever you lay your head?” Mac asked, desperate to have a normal conversation.

“Hmm” the man grunted. He was not happy about being here. Driving Jack’s car was always fun, but Jack hadn’t even cracked a smile when he had ribbed him about the lack of flashing blue lights or a siren.

“Christ you’re a ray of fucking sunshine aren’t you?” snapped Mac, speaking almost under her breath, her patience being pushed to the limit by her enforced containment in the sterile room.

“Yeah well, my brother is an emotional wreck right now, so forgive me if I’m on less than sparkling form socially… Do you think they let you smoke in here?” the man seethed back in response.

“No.” Mac pointed towards the sign on the wall, which indicated as much.

“Probably for the best. My mum’d kill me if she smelt it on my breath.”

“And if she doesn’t then there are always the numerous horrific ways that the habit can finish you off.”

“What are you, a bloody doctor or something?”

“Actually yes.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m Doctor Elizabeth MacMillan. Now who the fuck are you?” She wouldn’t usually have been so rude, but this bloke was even more irritating than most of them.

“My name’s Edward; Edward Robinson.”

Mac offered her hand for a shake. Edward accepted it, surprised that the woman appeared to have thawed. “You’re not Jack Robinson’s brother are you?” Mac asked. That would explain the sense of familiarity.

“I am. Do you know him?”

“I do. I’m the coroner, well, one of them, so he and I work together.”

“Oh.” Edward found his mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape as the reaction escaped his lips.

“Why’s he an emotional wreck?” 

“He seems to think it was his girlfriend in the accident, Dr MacMillan.” His very posh, probably quite stuck up girlfriend, he didn’t add. Lizzie had practically had a seizure when she’d spoken to him on the phone about ‘Jack’s new girlfriend’. Well, spoken would be overdoing it; ‘frothed’ would be more appropriate.

“His girlfriend?” Mac folded her arms, and tried not to chuckle. That would be inappropriate. But the thought of Phryne being anyone’s girlfriend was inherently hilarious.

“Yes. I’ve never met her.” As he leaned forward, he rubbed his hands before interweaving his fingers and pressing his head forward onto them. “He was just starting to be cheerful again…”

“Ah. Well it wasn’t. His girlfriend, that is.”

“Oh? How do you know that, Doctor? Has he mentioned her to you?” That would be very unlike his brother, he thought. He knew that no-one at Jack’s work had known about the divorce until it was all finalised.

Mac allowed a hint of a smile to form on her lips. “I’m her best friend. And please call me Mac.”

“Ah. Well in that case, you may as well call me Eddie, everyone does.”

“Fuck me that’s some genetics.” Said Mac, in less of a murmur than she intended it to be.

“Sorry?”

“You’re very like your brother. I should have realised. Possibly it’s the cheekbones…”

“So where is she then? She’s not in here is she?” Eddie leaned into Mac conspiratorially.

“She’s having a few moments with… the body.” Mac replied, quietly, trying not to draw the attention of anyone else in the cramped space.

“Could you not use that term?” snapped a woman in the corner, angrily.

“I’m separating myself from the trauma, Ailsa.” Mac snarled back towards the blonde.

“But she’s OK?” Eddie asked, deciding to try to steer the conversation away from the almighty argument which was plainly threatening to erupt between the group.

“She’s fine."

“Well that’s good. Do you think there’s any chance of a coffee…?”

*********************

“Of course you do.” Jack sighed. “First things first, this floor is bloody freezing, so let’s stand up, yeah?”

Phryne nodded. Jack disentangled himself and stood up carefully, offering his hand to Phryne. She took it gratefully, testing her body’s reactions as she stood up; her muscles had tensed up: a reaction to the shock; the rapidly engulfing grief and having been sat on the cold concrete floor for what was now approaching a full hour.

“OK?” Jack asked, gently.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Right then. So, who is this?” Jack gestured towards the sheet.

“Gertrude Haynes. Known as Gertie.”

“Gertrude? Seriously? From what I saw she’s our age. Isn’t ‘Gertrude’ a bit of an old fashioned name?”

“Firstly, it’s almost the same as my mother’s name, so please don’t deride it, you won’t win points for that. Secondly, I would have thought a man who was quite as invested in Shakespeare as you are would be pleased that such literary references endure, and thirdly, ‘old fashioned’, really? And yet you’ve never questioned ‘Phryne’?”

Jack opened his mouth to speak and thought better of it. At least if she was being abrupt with him she was coming back to herself. Crossing to the door, Jack opened it, steadying Collins as he almost stumbled backwards into the room.

“Let’s have Collins take some details from you. I’ll ask the questions, OK?”

Phryne nodded as Collins found an empty page in his notebook, as well as fishing his phone from his pocket and activating the voice recorder.

“Interview, Miss Phryne Fisher. Present, DI Robinson, Senior Constable Collins,” said Collins, into the phone, before placing it on the table.

Having taken a moment to pull himself together and focus on the task in hand, Jack turned his attention to the acquisition of facts.

“So, why do you think she was murdered? Can you tell me anything about what happened? Did you see it?”

“Oh look at you, all proper police officer.” Phryne smirked as she turned to him, straightening the lapels on his jacket.

Against his better judgement, Jack slid his arm around her waist. He was pleased when she didn’t flinch. He’d thought she might; his earlier words had plainly unsettled her. It was against protocol, of course, but at this point the lines between ‘work’ and ‘personal’ were so blurred that he felt it didn’t really matter anymore anyway. He suspected that he was going to have to pass this investigation to someone else in any event. It was one thing having Phryne as a consultant when she knew the people involved in a case, quite another when it was highly possible, he suspected, that she was a personal friend of the victim.

“Stop dodging the questions. How do you know her?” Jack pressed her gently.

“She’s one of my fellow Adventuresses’. I’ve only known her since I moved back to Melbourne. Mac’s known her much longer, since Uni I think.”

“Adventuresses’?”

“The Adventuresses Club. A group of like-minded women, Jack. I’m Madame President.”

“Of course you are.”

“This was no accident Jack, trust me. There is no one I trust more behind the wheel than Gertie.”

“What happened?”

“The wheel came off her car on lap seven. I was in the car behind.”

“Mechanical faults do happen.”

“It was an impeccably maintained rallying car, Jack.”

“And how fast was she driving? If she was in front of you, quite fast, I imagine.”

“You sound like you’re doubting me.”

“I’m playing devil’s advocate. How fast were you driving?”

Phryne shrugged, “Around 200k’s.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Controlled circumstances Jack. I’ve done this loads of times before. We’ve all done this loads of times before.”

Jack took a moment to control himself. He’d never presume to try to tell her how to live her life, just as he’d expect her never to try to control his. But he couldn’t help worrying about her.

“Alright, so you’re racing around the track…”

“And we came to the banking, and Gertie’s car started swerving all over the place, and then just spiralled out of control, and then there was suddenly smoke everywhere and bits started flying.”

“How far behind were you?”

“A few hundred yards.”

“Are you sure you’re OK? That’s terribly close, in the circumstances.”

“I dodged around it all, and then pulled onto the grass in the middle of the track. Everyone else had either driven around and was pulling over, or had pulled up behind, or they were still in the pits, because we were taking it in turns.”

“And was it just your group here today?”

“No. There’s a team here from Pepper, Haynes & Fletcher; the accounting firm.”

Jack swallowed deeply. Of all the firms in Melbourne, only that one could be involved in this mess. “Haynes? That’s a coincidence.” He said, covering his thoughts; he was definitely going to have to have nothing to do with this case.

“Not really, that’s Gertie’s brother.”

“Huh. Where’s he then?”

“Erm, we let him go home Sir.” Said Hugh, interjecting.

“Where they on the track at the same time?” Jack asked.

“No. They stagger the sessions. It’s quite carefully organised.” Phryne explained.

“And are the cars left unattended?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we’ll get FS to take the car away and thoroughly test it. Collins.” Jack nodded his head towards Hugh, who made a note in his book.

“Now, is there anything else you can tell me?”

“I’m not sure. It happened so quickly. She was, there one minute, we were chatting over the radios, and then… she went very quiet, I think she coughed, and then… the car spun out in front of me, as I said.”

“And can you think of anyone who might have had a motive to want to kill her? What about the brother?”

Hugh tried not to sigh audibly. This was definitely outside the usual remit with witnesses.

“I don’t know. As I say, Mac knew her better than I did. She was just, one of the gang. I liked her, she was fun, she never took anything too seriously.”

“Married?”

“No. Gloriously single and playing the field.”

Jack tried not to think about how this woman seemed to share some character traits with Phryne, as well as the physical similarity.

“A spurned former lover perhaps?” Jack tried to adopt a neutral tone. He was fairly sure that ‘embittered’ made itself known in his tone.

“Possible. But again, I only know of her reputation, and as I’m sure you appreciate Jack, a reputation and the truth are often two entirely different things.”

“Hmm.” Jack nodded, sagely. “Collins? Anything else you can think of?”

This was awkward, Hugh thought. His boss was currently entwined around the witness. Which was a breach of several points of procedure. And this case seemed to have escalated. Hugh was aware that he wasn’t supposed to be working homicides at the moment. It was only because of his secondment to traffic that he was here at all. And this was blurring the lines of ‘traffic’ in any event. 

“Erm, no Sir. I think we have to wait for the coroner. The, other coroner, I mean. We can’t use Dr MacMillian, obviously, especially if she was a friend of the, erm, victim. I do have one question Miss.”

“Of course Hugh.”

“Do you have any reason to want Miss Haynes dead, Miss?”

“Collins!” sputtered Jack, incredulous.

“None whatsoever, Constable Collins.” Said Phryne, defiantly, throwing a glare towards Hugh as she stressed his title.

“You appreciate I have to ask, Miss.”

“Thank you Collins. If you could give myself and Miss Fisher a moment.”

********************

It had been ten minutes since Hugh had left the room, fiddling with the recording on his phone as he did. Jack was making a cursory inspection of the body, and the pockets of Gertie’s racing suit. It was almost identical to the one Phryne was wearing.

For her part, Phryne was trying to work it all out. She could feel things, observances, facts, sliding around in her mind like a pinball in an arcade game, but she couldn’t get a fix on anything. She looked at Jack, really looked at him, for the first time since he had burst into the room.

“You’re wearing a suit.”

“Erm, yes.”

“Why are you wearing a suit? I thought you weren’t working today?”

“I’m not.”

“And that’s a very dour tie, even for you Jack. Plain black, really?”

“I’ll take your sartorial comments on board.”

“Hang on; you said you had a family thing?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of a family thing requires a black suit on a Saturday afternoon?”

“Ah, erm, well…”

“Jack?”

Jack pressed his eyes shut. For someone who was very observant, she sometimes overlooked the obvious.

“It’s the 27th of August.”

A puzzled expression formed on Phryne’s face.

“It’s twenty years. Exactly, as it happens… Since my dad died.” Jack had got quieter the more he’d had to explain.

“Oh, god… So when you said you had a family thing…”

“Yes.”

“Please tell me you were not at your father’s grave when Hugh rang.”

“No, no. We were back at the house.”

“Back?”

“Erm, we’ve been to church. Not sure that’s helping. Seems to help mum though, so, you know… Then we went to the cemetery. We went to see gran’s grave too, while we were there.”

“Who’s we?”

“Erm, mum, obviously, Eddie, Gail, Sophie. Kath, Gary, Jimmy, Maggie. Lizzie, Riley, Harry, Billy and Sally.”

“Oh god.”

“Actually it’s quite unusual for all of us to be in one place.”

“Oh god Jack, you didn’t have to rush over here.”

“I couldn’t stop myself… When I thought it was you in the accident… I found it unbearable… The thought that I’d never see you again.” Jack had moved over to Phryne, sliding his hand around her waist once more. The fact of her being here; real and solid, was managing to hold him back from utterly losing his composure. 

“I’m not sure you should have driven, you’re plainly in no fit state.”

“Eddie drove.”

“Eddie drove?”

“Yeah. Apparently he’s still very impressed with my car. Less impressed that I don’t have flashing blue lights to get through the traffic.”

“Now that would be abuse of your position.”

“It would.”

There was a pause. Phryne burrowed her head into Jack’s shoulder. She’d known that he loved her. Plainly she had underestimated just how deeply he had managed to fall.

“I can see now why you were so upset. Especially if you thought that… this was me.” Phryne gestured to the table.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologise Jack.”


	6. Sunday 28th August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for Domestic Violence, Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Physical Violence.
> 
> *******************************************  
> It's been a long and lonely weekend...

Jack tried not to bounce nervously as he waited for someone to open the door.

 

**_Can you come round this evening? I think we need to talk. P xx_ **

 

The text had come through a few hours earlier. Jack had texted back to confirm, and then worriedly watched his phone ever since.

“No use sitting here fretting son. She’s fine.” His mum had said as she’d packed him off from her house. He’d been quiet; he knew that, and not making as much as he should have been of having Eddie home for the weekend. Sometimes even Adelaide felt like the other side of the world.

The door was opened by Mr Butler. “Ah, good evening Sir, may I take your coat? Miss Fisher is upstairs, and has asked you to go up. Would you like me to bring you a drink Sir?”

“I really don’t think I can stomach anything Mr Butler.” Jack tried to force a smile and failed. As he was ushered up the stairs, having been relieved of his coat and finding Mrs Butler pressing a coffee into his hand in any event, he discovered he was still nervous. As he paused at the door to her room, Jack looked around. He’d liked her house, he thought. He’d liked their time together. This would hurt less if he hadn’t allowed himself to fall quite so in love with her. But he had, and now, at the first moment of him allowing himself to just say it, she’d plainly recoiled, and decided to run. And when she’d promised that she wouldn’t. Jack couldn’t help but be disappointed.

The door opened.

“I could hear you, lurking” said Phryne, in an accusatory tone.

“Sorry,” replied Jack, staring at the floor of her bedroom behind her.

“Oh for god’s sake Jack, come in. Have a seat. On the bed!” Added Phryne, as Jack made a  beeline for the chair in the corner of the room.

Moving over to the bed, Jack still hovered uncertainly. There was a small box on the edge of the doona, the contents partially scattered across the covers of the bed. Phryne plonked herself down on the bottom corner of the bed, pushing the box carefully in front of her. She was wearing one of her many dressing gowns. Which undersold the item considerably, Jack thought, as he tried not to consider where this one fell in his mental list of 'favourite things Phryne wears'. It was fifth. 

Jack placed his cup of coffee on the bedside unit, worked his shoes off and sat down at the head of the bed. He reached towards the shoebox and  picked up the lid.

“What’s ‘Freeman Hardy Willis’; a firm of lawyers or something?”

“A shoe shop, Jack. They were my first new school shoes after we’d moved.”.

“Well I thought the box looked old…”

“Cheeky!” Phryne smiled, adjusting herself so she was sat with her legs crossed in front of her. “I was reminiscing.”

“So, what’s in the box...? I mean, if you want to tell me…”

“These,” she indicated stacks of envelopes, bound together with various ribbons. The stacks got smaller towards one end of the box, “these are all the letters Helen and Mac wrote to me when I was growing up.”

“Is that how you kept in touch? They wrote to you?”

“Yes. No skype then of course, and phone calls would have been prohibitively expensive. So letters it was.”

“There’s a lot of them.”

“Well at times we had a lot to say. I’ll read you one.”

“I wouldn’t want to feel like you were breaking a confidence.”

“Oh, nothing confidential in this first one, I assure you Jack.” Phryne picked up the letter, Jack realising that she must already have been reading this one already, as it was already out of its envelope. 

Phryne took a deep breath and began to read:

_ “Dear Phryne, _

_ “We hope you are well. Liz’s mum has written the envelope for us. We are not sure it is right, as your house does not have a number or a street. Please tell us what we have got wrong. If this gets to you of course…" _

“That last bit was Mac; she was sardonic even then…"

_ “We miss you a lot. School has started and it is not the same. Mrs Shepherd has given a new girl your desk. We are not sure if we like her. Ray said to tell you he misses you too. We are not going to start playing out with him, because boys smell.” _

“Mac again?” Jack queried.

“Shockingly, that bit was Helen,” replied Phryne, quirking her eyebrow.

_ “Mrs Shepherd showed us on the wall map where you have moved to, and we all had to say what we knew about Britain. I know it rains. And I know that we have their flag in ours." _

“Mac there, then Helen” Phryne explained. “They weren’t wrong about the rain. I’d never seen so much of it in my life.

_ “What is your new school like? Liz has been doing a science project. Helen has been doing some very good art. We have not got into any trouble at all since you left. It is not as exciting. We went to the farm last Saturday. Liz’s mum says you will have a proper farm near you. Do you? What is it like? Have you been to London? What was the plane like? _

_ Helen’s mum says that we will probably never see you again, but we know she is wrong. When will you be able to come home? Will it be soon? We miss you and we are worried that you will have no one to play with. Please write back and tell us everything that has happened. _

_ Helen and Liz” _

As she finished reading, Phryne carefully folded the faded and thinning paper along it's long held creases.

Jack wasn’t sure what to say.

“I take it you wrote back?” he eventually asked.

“Yes. I can’t recall now exactly what I said, but probably that I missed them too, that I was trying not to get into trouble, but failing, and that my father did now own a farm. Amongst everything else.”

“Your father owns a farm?”

“Well, there’s one on the estate. To supply the kitchens.”

“Right. Of course. And how long did you keep on writing? There’s a lot of letters in that box.”

“There are. Well over a decade, and even into the 90’s actually.”

Jack looked over to the two photos on Phryne’s bedside table, picking up the picture with the three young women smiling. “Well, this is you, and a somewhat younger Mac, so I guess this is Helen?”

“It is. We were all eighteen, and they came to see me.”

“Eighteen?"

“Yes. So before Helen had met, well, whoever Jane’s father is, before Mac had come out to her parents…”

“I wish we’d somehow met when we were, I dunno, twenty or something.”

“I wouldn’t have looked twice at you back then.”

“Hey, I was not so bad looking. This was a bit more curled…” said Jack, running his hand through his hair.

“Not that I’d know Jack. You have no photos of yourself at your flat. Other than the one of you cycling.”

“You’re not exactly over-loaded here…” Jack fell silent. He didn’t want to pry. He really didn’t, but she seemed very open this evening. “Phryne, is this your sister?” he asked, reaching out towards the other picture on the bedside table.

Phryne found a lump forming in her throat. “Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Janey.”

“Janey? That’s very similar to, well, Jane. Is that… a coincidence?”

“You know, I don’t know. Helen never said.”

“Phryne, what happened to her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. One minute she was there, and the next… it was as if she’d been wiped from the face of the earth. I lost her Jack, I lost her.”

“I’m sorry.” Jack wasn’t sure he knew how to read Phryne, given the weekend they were having, but she looked close to tears.

“Thank you,” said Phryne, in a tone that Jack felt sounded very rehearsed.

 

Silence fell between them. Phryne gathered the letters neatly, taking a few minutes to store them in their rightful stacks.

 

“So what’s happening with the investigation?” she asked, shifting herself up towards him on the bed.

A grimace flitted across Jack’s face.

“Jack?”

“I can’t really… Do you remember, when we first went out for dinner, I said there would be some things I just couldn’t talk to you about?”

“Yes?”

“This is one of those. As much as it was impudent of Hugh to suggest it, any copper, other than  me, would include you in the suspect pool.”

“Really Jack, if I had done it, why would I draw your attention to the possibility of foul play? That Sergeant Naylor who spoke to us initially was more than happy to dismiss it as an accident. If I’d killed her… well I’d hardly try to convince you otherwise, would I?”

“Am I here to be told that the police are stupid?”

“No Jack, you’re not. And they’re not… stupid… Just, too keen to find an easy solution sometimes.”

“So why am I here?” Jack asked, deciding that if she was going to dump him, he’d quite like to be dumped sooner rather than later this evening, if possible. He already knew he would be having a very long day at work tomorrow.

“As I said, we need to talk…”

“OK.” The hairs on the back of his neck rose with his anxiety.

“About what you said, this morning…”

“OK.”

“You love me.”

Jack gathered his courage; he wasn’t going down without a fight, and he wanted her to see that his feelings weren’t something she had to run from. “I do. I am in love with you Phryne. And I am not here to apologise for that. And, Phryne, I maybe said it too soon, and maybe you’re…”

“Jack…” his name emerged from her mouth with a crack half-way through as she spoke across  him. “I do want, this, us… to carry on. I really do…” Turning her head slowly she met his eyes. She closed her eyes as she took a long, slow breath. As she opened her eyes, she took Jack’s hand in hers, wrapping her fingers around his. He looked so hurt, as if she’d ripped his heart out and was grinding it into dust even as he sat there trying to be noble and detach himself. Time to jump off the cliff then… “I need to tell you something.”

 

~~~

They had both retreated to their confidants when they had emerged from the room where Gertie Hayes' body lay on the makeshift table. 

Jack had moved down past Hugh to speak to Eddie.

“You OK?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“So she’s not dead.”

“No. No.”

“OK.”

“I told her I love her.”

“OK.”

“I don’t think it went very well.”

“Right. Do you need to stay? For her, or for your work?”

“Erm, yeah, for a bit. Sorry.”

“Right, well can we at least go outside for a minute? You look like you need some air, and I need a smoke.”

 

At the other end of the corridor, Phryne and Mac kept on glancing over their shoulders as they  whispered fiercely to each other.

“Shit Mac, he told me he loves me.”

“Well that’s bloody obvious.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Have you still not told him?”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake Phryne, the man’s not a mind-reader. And he’s a good bloke, as you once told me.”

“You seem unnaturally concerned.”

“He’s one of the better ones. Even I can see that. And you really like him too. For the love of god, Phryne, tell him”

“Men!” Phryne snorted. “Can’t live without them, can’t hit them with an axe”. She knew her heart wasn’t in the sentiment as she spoke the words. When had she become so concerned about what someone else might think?

 

~~~

 

“I need to tell you… No, I need…” She shook her head. She had always known this was never going to be easy; it was why she’d always avoided allowing relationships to develop to this point. “It’s about Ronnie…”

“Look, I gather he hurt you Phryne. But we’ve all got ex’s who hurt us.”

Phryne nodded. “It’s… more than that…”

“Phryne? You have to be able to trust me, Phryne…I hope you know that you can. Whatever it is that you’re trying to say.”

Swallowing before she spoke she tried again, she nodded once more as she exhaled slowly. 

“Jack…just…feel? Carefully, please…” Tentatively, with trembling fingers she took Jack’s hand and extended his first finger. Opening her mouth, she placed his finger against the back tooth on the left-hand side of her jaw. Guiding his finger, she moved it across the front of her teeth slowly. Pausing after the three molars she halted her guidance, before moving Jack’s finger back again, forward and across what Jack now realised was a slightly bigger gap than there should perhaps be.

Jack was utterly confused. She had a dental issue? What did this have to do with her shitty ex? 

But whatever this was, Phryne was plainly troubled by it; he could see the tears, which had subsided, welling up again. Phryne never cried, and now this was the second consecutive day where she’d been like this. Maybe she’d somehow been hurt in whatever had happened yesterday? She withdrew Jack’s finger from her mouth.

“The gap’s closed up slightly of course, over the years, as expected…”

Turning his hand around, she placed it around her jaw line. As she moved her jaw in a very precise manner, Jack felt a slight clicking as Phryne manipulated and contorted her mouth before pressing her hand on top of Jack’s. There was a final click as Jack half-felt, half-heard her jaw bone shift again. Phryne removed his hand, holding onto it still. She squeezed his hand once more, although more calmly now. Looking down at their joined hands, she spoke quietly, her pace and tone steady, but reserved.

“That word, Jack. That word. I told Ronnie I loved him. I thought I did. He said he loved me… And ‘love’, means I have one less tooth than I should, and a jaw that sometimes clicks on cold mornings.”

Jack was aware that he appeared to have stopped breathing. Suddenly, her questions after the Ball made sense. And with a dawning horror, Jack realised why she had felt compelled to ask him all those questions about him punching walls. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and tell her that it would all be alright, but he was suddenly unsure as to whether that was in any way the correct thing to do. This was never going to be alright. His integrity fell into an argument with his anger that anyone could do such a thing to another person, and met his police victim support training head on as a battle raged within him as to what to say. And he thought he might be about to throw up.

Phryne looked at Jack very carefully. She could read that he was shocked. There were other things going through his mind too, she could tell, although she could not quite pinpoint what. Her fear was that he would start treating her differently; as if she couldn’t stand up for herself, or needed protecting, and both were outcomes which would annoy her.

“Can I do anything?” Jack asked, when he felt he was capable of speaking.

“Not really. He’s in jail, so…”

“Umm, is this why he’s in jail?” Jack had no clue how to deal with this. Could he ask questions? What was Phryne’s limit here? “I mean, if you’d rather not talk about it…”

“This is not why he’s in jail. I never reported… this.” Phryne rubbed her fingers over her jaw absent-mindedly.

“Why not?”

Phryne laughed at that. “Really, Jack, the police would never have done anything. If they’d even believed me in the first place.”

“You have a very low opinion of the police sometimes.”

“Virtually all the policemen I’ve ever known have fallen short of even that. You can’t possibly be as naive as to think that they all care as much as you do, Jack?”

Jack nodded, in acceptance of that fact. “Well I dread to ask, but what is he in jail for?”

“Are you honestly telling me you’ve never poked into it after I mentioned that he hurt me very badly?”

“That would have felt like I was going behind your back. And I thought… I thought, from when you’ve mentioned him before that you were talking about a bad break up, Phryne. Emotionally, I mean. I never imagined, well, this…” Jack lifted his hand and indicated Phryne’s jaw.

“Well the break up did happen very rapidly after this...” She almost smiled.

“Oh god. Sorry, I’m an idiot… But didn’t the doctor… or the dentist… or whoever sorted this out for you ask what happened?”

“The advantage of being very rich Jack, is that you can pay people to sort things out for you, without them asking questions.”

“Dear god.”

Phryne picked at the material of her dressing gown. “He’s in jail for aggravated manslaughter.”

“Fucking hell.” The expletive slipped from Jack’s lips before he could stop himself.

“Well quite. No-one he, I, we knew. I’m not sure whether that makes it better or worse.”

 

Silence fell once more.

 

“I am not a victim. I am not a victim Jack. And don’t you dare treat me like one.” The tone of anger and defiance in Phryne’s voice was diminished by her sniffing once more.

“Of course not. I am very sorry that this happened to you. No-one should ever have to go through anything like that.”

“I was lucky. I could get out. Many others can’t.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, so many of my cases are ‘domestics’. And whichever way round it’s gone down, it’s never easy.”

“It’s so hard to get out. You think that maybe the relationship isn’t right, but you have no experience to compare it to, and all your friends think it's fine, because they never see anything other than the social version of him, and they don’t understand. And you become paranoid that it’s all in your head. And then when he actually did this,” she ran her fingernail into the gap in her teeth, “I am just thankful that I had the presence of mind to know, to really know, that it was just wrong. And I was lucky; I had somewhere to run to.”

Jack nodded. He could talk about crime statistics. He could tell her that he’d never do such a thing; which he hoped she knew, and which he also knew was almost certainly a horribly patronising thing to say.  “Is that, experience, why you don’t go out with people for very long? Are you protecting yourself?” Jack’s psychology degree kicked in. He was sure that was a bad idea too.

“No! I mean, after Ronnie, I’ve only ever wanted to have fun. I’ve never wanted to be involved in anything serious. I decided, after I’d got over it, that I wanted to have adventures, and not be held back by anyone. So I went off and saw the world. And it was marvellous. And for the last few years, I’ve had Jane to worry about. And I don’t want to ever stop being able to have adventures. I am who I am, Jack, and I can’t give that up.”

“I’m not asking you to give it up. I would never ask you to do that. I know I’m a serious man, probably too serious sometimes, and I’m very cautious, because I’ve seen a lot of things which make me consider my every move very carefully. And to be fair, Phryne, you knew who I was before this started.” He indicated with his fingers between the two of them. “But what I love about you is the sense of freedom you have; the fact that you don’t seem to give a damn what anyone thinks of you; that you don’t allow anyone to stop you doing anything you want to. And you make me want to be less cautious; to try things I wouldn’t ordinarily even consider. And I hope that I’m fun, at least a little bit?”

Phryne nodded. She had known. And she really did want to try. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he had somehow dug his way past her defences. “Well maybe I’ve been protecting myself from being too connected to anyone as well. You’re the only person who knows about this. Except Mac, of course.”

“The only person…?”

“Yes.” Phryne looked up at him then, meeting his gaze.

“Oh.” Jack breathed. “Well then, thank you for telling me. Obviously, I won’t say anything about this, to anyone.”

Phryne nodded. “Whilst I’m telling you all the gory details of my life…”

Jack looked at Phryne, who was running her fingers along the edge of her shoe box. He wasn't sure there was anything he could say; his mind was still reeling. 

“Do you remember, the day I got back from London, you made us some supper, and we talked, and I said that it turned out I did do ‘serious’ relationships, I just maybe hadn’t realised it?”

“Well I mostly remember that we finally got to some rather excellent kissing.” Phryne smiled, which made Jack relax slightly. “But yes, I remember that,” he added.

“I want to tell you about my most, enduring intimate relationship. And this is something that absolutely no-one knows about.”

“Not even Mac?” Jack asked, in a jovial tone.

“Not even Mac.” Phryne answered in a very serious tone.

Jack furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Jack, I’ve never told anyone this. But I want to try with you, so much, to make a go of us. And I am very uncertain of how to describe how I feel about you. But I do feel... I have no idea what I'm doing here. I have no experience to compare... us... to. And the prospect of this being deliberately long-term sort of terrifies me. But it's a terrified that excites me, somehow. And it feels like I can tell you anything, and you won’t betray me.”

“Phryne?” He was quietly confident he was no longer about to be dumped, which meant that the evening was looking up significantly. He wondered what else she could possibly have to tell him. And why she looked, if anything, slightly more nervous than she had earlier. How could this possibly be any worse than that?

“It turns out, when I wasn’t really thinking about it, that I’ve been, in a strange way, involved with the same bloke for, well, nine years.”

“Involved?”

“I, I don’t know how to describe it Jack. And this is why I try not to use ‘labels’ for these things. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

“OK, well, you’ve been… whatever… for nine years? My marriage only lasted ten.”

Phryne considered that momentarily. “You should know; it’s always been very, very honest, and open, and direct. And neither of us have ever thought it was anything more than it was.”

“Which was…?” Jack was utterly perplexed.

“An arrangement. With rules. Very clear rules.”

“Right.” 

“You have taken some sort of oath of allegiance, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. Christ Phryne, who is this? The bloody Chief Commissioner?”

“No, no. As you said yourself Jack, I have a very low opinion of the police. Apart from you.” She smiled; the first genuine, full smile Jack thought he’d seen from her since he’d arrived. “It’s not even anyone Australian, or local. But I want to tell you, before you find out any other way, and because I don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Please tell me, before my mind starts conjuring up absurd possibilities.”

“It’s Harry.”

“Who’s Harry?”

Phryne rolled her eyes, “Oh come on Jack!”

Jack looked at her blankly, before he felt the tumblers in his mind fall into place, and realisation suddenly dawned. “Do you mean... Harry who you were in the papers with in London?”

“Yes.”

“But you said there was nothing between you.”

“I said, very specifically, that I have no romantic interest in him. Which I don’t.”

 

Jack blinked, slowly, three times.

 

“I mean, I’m very fond of him, of course. We’re both very tactile people. And he did grow up next door to me.”

“And how does that become a nine year...whatever?”

Uncrossing her legs, Phryne rolled her shoulders back to loosen them up. She grabbed a cushion from where it was lying on top of the covers and gathered it to her, hugging it tightly as her fingertips picked at the embellishments sewn onto it.

“It just sort of, did. It was never permanent, nor intended to be. And until the wedding, we’ve managed to keep any hint of anything away from the papers. I think we were just both so excited to see each other. We’re really very good friends before anything else. It’s never really been planned, it’s just sort of happened if we were both in the same place and both felt like it.” She shrugged her shoulders, as if that explained everything.

“Right.” Jack wondered when he was going to wake up from what was plainly the most vivid and realistic nightmare he had experienced in years.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m a bit…surprised… Nine years?”

“Well, on and off. Off more than on; if truth be told. But when we were in the same place, and if we both felt like it, and if neither of us was seeing anyone else at the time…”

“And this is why you didn’t say anything to the papers?”

“Yes. Because if either of us says ‘oh, we’re just old friends’, then we are utterly screwed if the press turn round and print pictures of both of us leaving a Premier Inn somewhere only fifteen minutes apart. If we say ‘we are absolutely not involved, at all’, and then a disgruntled former employee of one of the estates decides that now is the perfect time to earn Five Hundred Quid for his exclusive tale of the time he caught us fucking in the kitchen garden greenhouse…”

“Enough!” Jack smiled, “I, get the picture…”

“Well, you can see the problem. Better to say nothing and let the gossip die quickly, than say something, be caught in a slight mistruth, and become headlines for a week. Or much longer. Because the Press does not do nuance, as I am sure you have gathered.”

Jack took a moment to process this new information. “Nine years?”

“Less and less often over the last few though.”

“But you're still close enough that you talked to him about me?”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“Our most recent…” Phryne made a vague hand gesture that Jack interpreted as ‘sex’.

“Yes, yes...” By now his eyebrows had risen practically to his hairline.

“I said your name, by mistake.”

Jack felt his brain hit the brakes, stop, and attempt to reverse back through this conversation. it was definitely a nightmare. “My name?”

“Yes. At a, erm, delicate moment.”

“Oh?... Oh!...How have I not been arrested for treason or something?”

“Well he is threatening to have you thrown in the Tower.” Phryne winked, cheekily.

“Well it’s one way to see London…” Jack wondered at his own ability to be humorous.

Phryne laughed. “Bless, he was lovely about it. It's always been very honest. And maybe that was why it went on so long, because we could talk about anything, and we knew we could trust each other, absolutely.”

There was a pause whilst Jack considered how to proceed. “We should always be honest with each other Phryne.”

“We should.”

“On which point…”

“Yes...”

“You are not the only reason I am not getting involved in this case.”

“I’m not?”

“No. Look, your group are obviously going to be looked at quite closely, but I, we, the force, can’t overlook the fact of the brother being there. And that accountancy firm? Pepper, Haynes and Fletcher? Well these days, that’s where Rosie works. And the ‘Fletcher’ is her husband.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. And much as I’d like to think I’m very professional when I’m at my job…”

“That might be asking a tad too much? Well yes, even I can see the conflict of interest there. I didn’t realise Jack.”

“Well you had no reason to know.”

Jack’s mind went back to their earlier conversation. “Hang on, this… when you said my name?”

“Yes…?”

“When was this?”

“Erm. The polo match?”

Jack thought about that for a moment. “Phryne, was he the last person you… before me?”

“Well, yes.”

“Oh.” Jack leant back against the headboard of the bed, then leaned forward, and suddenly found himself rocking forwards and backwards slightly as his eyes became ever wider.

Phryne saw Jack at the beginnings of what appeared to be a very shocked reaction. “Jack, now would not be the moment to freak out about him being, well…”

“The queen’s grandson? Third in line to the throne? Quite a bit younger than me and in excellent physical health, I imagine…” Jack could hear his voice rising in pitch the more he spoke.

“Jack. It was a dalliance. Yes, a repeated, extended dalliance, but a dalliance nevertheless. As I have told many people, including my father, I have no interest in being in any sort of ‘relationship’ with him. I want to be with you Jack. And our pasts are just that.”

Jack thought about himself, and Phryne. She was letting him in, and that was obviously very rare – if not even Mac knew about, well, Harry, and only Mac knew about Ronnie, and now he did too, well then that must mean something. He looked at her, picking at the sequins on the cushion she was playing with. He has always known this would never be easy; Phryne was amazing and wonderful and beautiful. And stubborn and wilful and absolutely not taking any of anyone’s shit. He could perhaps see now why not.

“Come here,” he whispered, holding his arm out towards her.

Abandoning the cushion by tossing it towards the foot of the bed, Phryne moved up the bed and straddled Jack’s lap. He tried not to roll his eyes at her obvious attempt at distraction.

“Phryne Fisher, I love you. I love all of you. And I’m not going to say it all the time, because I get that it scares you. But just know that I do. And I’m not asking you for anything more than we have right now. OK?”

Phryne nodded, reassured that the world had not fallen apart. On the bedside table her phone played some notes that Jack recognised as being from ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’. Kissing Jack quickly on the cheek Phryne reached for it and read the text message.  Holding the phone in her hand, she rolled her lips as she looked at Jack. The text had been very specific. She sighed. 

“Would you like to come to Aunt P’s Spring Barbeque?”

“To what now?”

“That was a text message from her.”

Jack ran his hands around Phryne’s waist to give himself a moment. Prudence Stanley struck him as the least likely person in the world to eat food that had been cooked in anything other than a pristine oven, located in a kitchen.

“It’s on Saturday the Seventeenth. Are you available?”

“Umm, I think so? I’d have to check my work schedule.”

“She included you in the reminder.”

“Oh. And, does she do this every year?”

“She does.”

Jack thought for a moment. He knew Mrs Stanley, from the surprisingly high number of cases he had that she was peripherally involved in. And she seemed to have taken the news that he and Phryne were involved much better than he had thought she might. And this felt like it was Phryne offering him something more. And he had said that he wanted to be less cautious.

“Well, if I’m not working, then yes, that would be... Yes.”

“Excellent. You’ll need your swimming gear.”

And then she kissed him, and he entirely forgot to ask why he might need swimming gear at a barbeque.


	7. Friday 16th September 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few weeks, so it's time for Aunt P's annual 'Welcome to Spring' Barbecue...
> 
> (And you, dear reader, finally get the resolution to the murder in the previous chapters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the epic length of time since this last updated - Real Life got a bit 'interesting' for a while back there. I can't make any promises, but the next couple of chapters of this are just about ready to go!

_**Where are you? Jack** _

_**Being terribly discreet in a parking bay outside. Have you finished?** _

_**I have. Will be out very soon. xx Jack** _

_**You do know my phone tells me who you are?** _

_**Yes, of course. Sorry. xx (Jack)** _

**********

Jack gently opened the passenger door, sliding in carefully. Reaching over he pressed his lips to Phryne’s cheek, causing her to smile.

“So what’s persuaded your Aunt to hold a barbie?” Jack asked as he settled back in his seat.

“Oh, she has it every year.” Phryne shrugged lightly as she manoeuvred the car away from the kerb into the flow of traffic running south along St Kilda Road. Jack shut his eyes as she pulled across the four lanes of traffic and the tram tracks.

Jack hoped he’d got away from work without being seen; he could only imagine the ribbing he’d get if he was noticed getting into her bright red Jag. He was coming to the realisation that he didn’t much care. But he would really like it if she could just drive slightly more slowly.

As the road widened out onto the Nepean Highway, Jack considered whether her driving actually did bother him. As a policeman, of course, he was duty bound to disapprove. But there was a part of him that found her obvious ability to control the brute power of the car somewhat thrilling.

As he decompressed from a day filled with paperwork, his mind wandered. The case at the racetrack felt like it had been a turning point for them. He knew things now about Phryne that she hadn’t told anyone else. It had been apparent to him for some time, even since before they had started ‘dating’, that the reality of her life was very different to how it appeared to many people; even those who thought they knew her. She so often seemed to be putting on a performance for the benefit of, well, Jack wasn’t totally sure whose benefit it was for, really. He liked every aspect of Phryne he uncovered; she was a real person, and the reality was so much more fascinating than the performance, however enthralling that might be. He was pleased that it seemed like she felt that she could trust him; he suspected that she truly trusted very few people. He did also love her when she was being ‘The Honourable Phryne Fisher’; out on the town, wowing a crowd, charming a room full of strangers, taking on any challenge she encountered. But he also loved it when she was being just Phryne, snoozing in his bed or lounging on his sofa.

“You’re quiet Jack.” Phryne glanced over at him. “By the way, I presume you do own swimwear?”

“Swimwear! That was a serious comment?”

“Yes. What do you have, I wonder? Speedos? Budgie Smugglers? Mankini? Sensible shorts to preserve your modesty?”

She was teasing him. He was fairly sure she was teasing him. “Sensible shorts. Somewhere in my flat. Why do I need swimwear?”

“Because Aunt P has a pool of course!”

“Of course she does,” mumbled Jack, glancing out of the Jag’s window.

“And the forecast for tomorrow is lovely. Personally, I‘ve got a delightful new bikini I’m dying to try out.”

Jack tried not to allow his mind to wander in an entirely new direction. He largely failed.

“So, tell me about your cousins. Just the two of them?” He forced his mind to focus on figuring out the lie of the land.

“Yes, just the two cousins,” replied Phryne, focusing her attention on the road.

Oh, Jack would look delicious in shorts; she imagined. He looked very good in just his underwear; even better in nothing at all, but he always got dressed so hastily. It wasn’t as if you could even see the scar on his hip, and he really did look after himself; muscles everywhere there should be. It felt like he was coming out of himself, slowly. He was more content to linger in bed naked with her on a morning when he wasn’t working than he had been when they’d first started sleeping together. She really shouldn’t allow herself to be distracted. She imagined, just for a moment, that if she was very lucky, she could convince him into the pool tomorrow evening, after her aunt’s friends had left.

“So why are we going this evening?”

Phryne shrugged again. “To help Aunt P out. She gets, anxious, before these things.”

“Why? If it’s just some friends and family?”

“Well, you know how she can be Jack.”

Jack gave a small head tilt in acknowledgement. “She does this every year?”

“She does.”

Jack furrowed his brow. He’d never seen any mention of this event on Phryne’s Facebook or Twitter, which was strange. “So who’d you usually take to this?” He hoped he’d managed to ask that in a neutral tone.

“Jane. She’s cried off this year. Kip.” She added, by way of explanation.

“I can run a check on him, if you’d like.”

“I dread to think how many of your precious policies that would breach Jack. Besides, I’m perfectly capable of running a check on him myself. Although I’ve decided that it might be a bit of a breach of trust.”

“Probably,” agreed Jack. Falling silent again, he considered Phryne’s response. He didn’t want to assume, but it felt like she was bringing him into more of her life than other people were exposed to. And how private an event was this, if she didn’t put it on Facebook at all, even with all her filters?

“Almost there,” announced Phryne.

Jack blinked. Where were they? They had been heading south, and as Jack looked at the blurred buildings and the road signs, he realised they were now in Frankston and still heading south. Phryne quickly steered the Jag off the Highway; Jack heard the honking of a horn as another driver objected to the speed of the manoeuvre and, Jack guessed, the squeal of the tyres.

“Is this Oliver’s Hill?” He’d known her Aunt had money, but this was several notches up from St Kilda.

“Yes.” Phryne sounded slightly defensive.

“Oh, OK. Well I’ve never been here.” No homicides somewhere this classy, he mused. Well, none that ever made it to the point of needing his investigative skills.

“Uncle Edward was in mining. He worked very hard.” Phryne parked the car half-way along a very long gravel drive. She flicked the key to turn off the engine and peered towards the house.

“OK.”

Jack knew that Phryne’s uncle had passed away some years ago; before he had known her. He wondered, briefly, at the coincidence of both of them having an Uncle with the same name. He should really call his Uncle Ted; it had been too long since they’d spoken.

There was a pause. Phryne picked at the hem of her skirt.

“Phryne?” He picked up on the tell that meant she was concerned about something. Oh god, what if she didn’t want him here? But he’d met her aunt? On numerous occasions. And she’d actually included him on this invitation. She seemed to broadly approve. And he didn’t think Phryne cared about things like that anyway.

Phryne’s eye was caught by movement further along the drive. Well, she thought, here we go. No turning back now.

As she emerged from the car Phryne found herself engulfed in an overly enthusiastic hug.

“Phry,ne!”

“Hello Arthur,” Phryne gasped, into his shoulder, but hugging him back just as tightly.

They broke the hug. “Did you, bring, sweets?” Arthur asked, conspiratorially as Mrs Stanley appeared further along the drive, fussing down a set of stairs.

“Arthur! Arthur!” Mrs Stanley appeared to be attempting to bellow quietly. It was surprisingly effective, Jack thought.

“I did bring sweets. I’ll let you have them later. Your mum’s coming. She’ll see if I give them to you now.” Phryne whispered into her cousin’s ear. He grinned in response before he replied.

“She’s always, watching!”

“She’s just concerned about you darling.”

Jack had somehow never thought of Mrs Stanley being a mother. It was a discombobulating revelation.

Phryne and Arthur stepped apart.

“Arthur, this is Jack…” Phryne indicated Jack, who was standing a small distance behind Phryne.

Jack stepped forwards and smiled nervously as Arthur appraised him.

“You’re, Phryne’s friend. Mum said, that there was, someone new coming, with Phryne.” Arthur offered his hand for a handshake, which Jack accepted.

“You’re very tall,” said Arthur.

“Yes,” replied Jack, “so are you…” It was surprising. Mrs Stanley was so… not tall.

“OK,” said Arthur, who then turned and headed back towards the house. “Come on Phryne. And Jack!” He shouted towards them as he passed his mother.

Mrs Stanley winced before turning to Arthur and beginning to admonish him. She turned slightly towards Phryne as she ushered Arthur towards the house, gesturing for Phryne to follow her.

“Phryne dear girl, come along!”

“So that’s my cousin Arthur.” Phryne turned to Jack, appraising him for his reaction.

“Seems like a lovely bloke. He obviously cares for you very much.” Said Jack, deciding that he wasn’t going to ask the question Phryne was nervously dancing around.

“He cares for my supply of sugar. But yes, he’s lovely.” Phryne visibly relaxed.

*******

The lounge, Jack thought, could probably swallow the entire ground floor of his mum’s house with space to spare. There were more sofas than him, his mum, his brother and both his sisters owned, added together. He tried not to remind himself that his girlfriend’s father owned a chunk of English countryside that apparently included a farm. It didn’t help.

From what he had been able to observe as he had been whisked through the house, it was absolutely huge. It was also a rabbit warren; he had observed at least four corridors peeling off from the hallway. He had been dragged along the first one by Phryne, who had distracted him with aplomb by the simple tactic of holding his hand as she propelled him towards this room. They had emerged from Corridor Number One as Jack had mentally labelled it, into this room, which he presumed was the main lounge.

Mrs Stanley marched into the room. Jack had no idea where she had disappeared to, presumably somewhere down one of Corridor Numbers Two through Four. A brief glance upwards as he had been close to the front door had suggested at least three floors. He would not be surprised if there was also some sort of cellar.

Phryne stood and hugged her aunt. In her heels she towered over the older woman. Jack thought the hug was offered with more enthusiasm than he had ever seen from her before, at least where her Aunt was concerned.

“Inspector…” Mrs Stanley moved over towards him.

“Oh, erm, please, call me Jack.” He replied, with an expression that was half-grimace, half-smile.

“Very well then, Jack.” Mrs Stanley tilted her head towards him, offering a cheek expectantly. Jack bent down to press his lips against her skin briefly - he felt it was both weird and unexpected. He decided to shift Mrs Stanley from the category of ‘terrifying’ to ‘terrifying but friendly’ in his mental categorisation. It was a category Tommo’s mum also occupied.

Mrs Stanley had somehow ushered them over to an entirely different sofa from the one they had previously been sat on. Jack had no idea how it had happened, but just accepted it as a part of some seating plan she had devised in her mind. At least he got to sit with Phryne.

“Guy’s not here yet. Running late, of course. He called before he took off. Blurted something about The Exchange having a meeting and he’d been held up. I heard Isabella giggling in the background. I do wish he’d make an honest woman of her.”

“I think that might be hard,” muttered Phryne, towards the ceiling, which she was suddenly finding fascinating.

“Phryne?” Jack enquired, quietly.

Phryne leaned into Jack, speaking in a whisper. “I love both my cousins, Jack, but Guy is an absolute snake. How Aunt P supposes he can make an honest woman of anyone, when he’s one of the most devious people I know, I have no idea.” Phryne sat back on the sofa as Mrs Stanley bustled over to Arthur, casting a glance towards Phryne and Jack as she did.


	8. Saturday 17th September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Aunt P's Barbie! 
> 
> With smut, case solutions, and Phryne realising that she didn't panic once during the day about that!
> 
> *******************
> 
> You know that gif of Jack on the bench during the footie episode? Yes *that* one? You might want to think of that once they get to the pool changing room...

“Phryne-kins!” A voice called over from the terrace running alongside the garden. 

Phryne rolled her eyes. “Guy!” she shouted back in response. “Izzy!” she added onto the end of the greeting.

The two met half-way along the terrace. Guy, Jack noted, was being followed by a blonde woman who was dressed in what even Jack could tell was extremely high–end fashion. It was a bit much for a barbecue, he thought. He quickly reviewed his own outfit; jeans and a hoodie had seemed fine. Phryne had agreed that they were fine. She’d even licked her lips, which Jack was well aware by now was a definite sign of approval. And if he was going to end up swimming at some point…

There was an awkward hug between Phryne and Guy, followed by an even more awkward air-kiss between Phryne and Izzy. Jack didn’t think he’d ever seen Phryne look quite so uncomfortable.

“And who’s your handsome ‘friend’?” Isabella trilled. She appeared to glide over to him. 

“Hi, I’m Jack Robinson.” Jack decided this was definitely an occasion for a firm handshake. Isabella looked at Jack’s outstretched hand as if it could be poisoned and threw herself into him bodily. 

“Isabella Cordue. Delighted to meet your acquaintance.” she spoke from somewhere in his chest.

“Izzy dear, put the nice police officer down.” Phryne snapped. 

Isabella recoiled. “A police officer! Oh how scrumptious. Does your uniform have lots of shiny buttons?”

“He’s a Detective Inspector!” Phryne spat the words out. “It means he doesn’t wear a uniform,” she added, having been met with a blank expression from Isabella.

“Oh really? So nothing at all then, well that seems terribly daring, for a police force. Perhaps you’d care to inspect me, Jack?” 

Had she just, jiggled her breasts at him? Wasn’t she Guy’s girlfriend? He was right there, sidling over from Phryne. When he arrived, Guy squeezed Isabella’s waist. 

“Now, now darling, you know Phryne doesn’t like to share…” Guy positioned himself immediately behind Isabella, moving his hand to noticeable fondle her backside. “Although if she’s prepared to make an exception this time…”

Jack was fairly sure he’d never seen a man smoulder at him before. He swallowed and glanced over towards Phryne, who rolled her eyes once more. 

Jack met Guy’s gaze directly. “I’m afraid I don’t share, either. But an intriguing offer... And I wear a suit, Miss Cordue. It’s what they call ‘Plain Clothes’ in the media.” 

Phryne’s jaw dropped, and it took her a few seconds to hastily recover her composure. Jack did ‘sassy’ so infrequently that it always surprised her when he adopted it in a conversation. But she had to admit that the best way to deal with Guy and Izzy was to meet them head on. 

Guy roared with laughter. “Oh you are excellent! This might actually be fun!”

“Phry,ne!” Arthur’s voice preceded him from inside the house.

“Oh god, here comes the prize idiot. To the pool, Izzy darling, and please tell me you forgot your costume?” Guy grabbed Isabella and made for the far side of the garden at a canter. Izzy shrieked as Guy slapped her bottom, scooped her up, and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. 

“Interesting people,” Jack commented, as Phryne moved closer to him, “hard to believe Mrs Stanley is his mother.”

“I do not know where he gets it from. And very well handled, by the way.”

Jack shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “It seemed like they were trying to get a rise out of me. And possibly you.”

“Indeed. They will seduce just about anyone who breathes. And they don’t care about leaving a trail of broken hearts in their wake.”

“Well that’s not very responsible, is it? As I understand it, polyamory, or whatever term those involved prefer, demands a certain honesty of communication, especially when it comes to expectations.”

Phryne’s jaw dropped again. “What is there that I do not know about you?”

“Quite a lot. I hope.”

“Well I do like a man of mystery.”

“Noted, Miss Fisher.” Jack’s voice rumbled as he pulled Phryne to him and kissed her neck, slowly. 

“Phry,ne” came Arthur’s voice again, closer now. 

“We should pick up on this later.” Phryne took a step backwards. “Arthur, how are you?” she asked as her cousin finally arrived on the terrace.

*********************************************

The food had been excellent. Jack was very sure he had never been to a barbecue where staff did the cooking before. And the serving. And then the staff had been quietly shuffled off and it was just Mrs Stanley, her family, some close friends, who all appeared to be cut from the same ‘strict and humourless’ cloth, and Phryne and himself.

Phryne leaned over, and ran her fingers provocatively up Jack’s thigh. “Now then, Inspector. If it’s been long enough since you ate, can I persuade you of the merits of the pool?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, and threw him a look that was entirely seductive. 

“Well, if you’re sure you can cope with my sensible shorts, Miss Fisher, then lead the way…

************************

Jack had many questions: how had his gym bag ended up in the small pool building? Was there really only one changing room? How stealthily could Mrs Stanley walk? He was brought back to more immediate thoughts as Phryne locked the door behind them.

“Now Jack, about those shorts… Get your kit off!”

He swallowed heavily, before reminding himself that she had seen him naked. Repeatedly. But somehow this felt different. 

He slowly started to undress, carefully folding his hoodie, and the T-shirt he was wearing underneath. Behind him, he could hear Phryne casting clothing casually onto the small bench. As he pushed his trainers off his feet, and loosened the first of the buttons on the fly of his jeans, he realised that the noise being made by Phryne had subsided. 

Phryne dug into her bag for her robe, throwing it on over the bikini which she had been wearing under her dress. She turned and sat demurely on the bench, watching Jack as he slowly undressed. 

“So, Jack, about the polyamory…”

Jack swallowed. “What about the polyamory, Phryne?”

“I’ve always been very clear that I only see one person at a time. And you told me that you’re not a ‘one night stand sort of bloke’. And I recall your somewhat graphic description of why you’re no longer married.”

Jack grimaced. Truth be told, he couldn’t recall exactly what he’d said that night. “That was cheating, not poly… anything.”

“Hmm. And so I ask again, Jack, how do you, with your impeccable moral code of honour, and, from what I can gather, history of serial monogamy, know about polyamorous relationships?”

Deciding to play for time, Jack flicked the last of the buttons on his fly free and pushed his jeans down his legs. Stepping out of them, he carefully bent down to remove his socks, angling himself so that Phryne got a full view of the back of his thighs. He knew she liked looking at him. 

God his arse was magnificent. He’d have to take his underwear off to put his swimming shorts on. If she knew Jack, he’d do that facing away from her. If he stood at just the right angle, she’d be able to get a very pleasing view indeed; a hint of Jack’s rather lovely cock, perhaps, peaking through the gap between his thighs. Her mind wandered for a moment. How quickly could she cross the small room? How would Jack feel about the possibility of a ravishment in a pool-side changing area? She could walk up behind him, and reach around… and… was Jack Robinson trying to distract her? The cunning little… Phryne’s mind snapped back to the topic of conversation.

“Nice distraction tactic Jack, but you’re failing to answer the question, and, you’re not playing fair.” Phryne crossed her arms and legs, pursing her lips. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Jack caught his first glimpse of the bikini; just a flash of the material as she adjusted her posture. The robe she was wearing covered the vast majority of the two-piece.

“Neither are you. Lovely robe.”

“Thank you.” Standing up, Phryne scooped one side of her robe back, placing her hand on her hip determinedly. She threw Jack a look that was half-challenge, half-invite. 

Jack raised an eyebrow. Picking his socks off the floor he rolled them up and tucked them into his trainers. He turned to face her before he spoke again. 

“I have a friend.” Jack spoke as he dug his fingertips into the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down his legs. 

“I’m sure you do Jack.” Phryne licked her lips, loosening her left arm and shrugging her shoulder backwards to loosen the robe, allowing it to expose part of the top half of the bikini.

“He and his wife have what they have described to me as a polyamorous relationship.” Jack sat down on the bench, scooped his underwear up from the floor, and deposited it in his bag before leaning back on his hands. He noted with relish that Phryne’s breath had hitched as he leaned back.

“Really?” Phryne recrossed her arms, ensuring the robe stayed slipped off her shoulder.

“Yes. He, more than any of my mates, seems to have got this whole, relationship thing right, straight from the start.” Deciding to join in with the teasing, Jack rocked himself gently forwards and backwards, giving Phryne a glorious view of, well, everything, he hoped.

“Am I going to get to meet him?” Phryne took two steps towards Jack, shrugging her other shoulder backwards to encourage the robe to drop down her until now covered arm. 

“At some point, I imagine.”

“Who else are you friends with Jack? There’s that chap from Abbotsford.”

“Yes.”

“And that copper at the airport. Or was he just a colleague?”

“He’s a friend too.”

“You plainly know whoever owns the restaurant where you took me for our first date.”

“Interesting deduction, Miss Fisher.” Jack shifted his hips forwards slightly, maintaining eye contact with Phryne and tilting his head ever so slightly to one side. 

“Who else is there in your life Jack? You know my friends.” Phryne moved her hands to her hips, subtly encouraging the sleeves of the robe to fall down her arms.

“I don’t imagine for a second that I know even a small number of your friends.”

“You know most of the ones who matter.” She took two steps closer to him, positioning herself between his legs which he spread slightly apart.

“Really?”

“Really. Oh! There’s the bloke who helped you mend your wall.”

Jack swallowed. “I’m absolutely not proud of that.”

“I’ve decided that it doesn’t concern me. But if you’re ever that angry again, please tell me.”

“Absolutely. Right now, I am very, very far away from angry.” Jack gulped, as his left arm moved from supporting him on the bench to wrapping itself around Phryne’s hips, pulling her infinitesimally closer to him. 

“Well I can see that…” murmured Phryne, casting her eyes downwards and noting Jack’s developing erection.

Jack inhaled, slowly. “I think you might be very far from angry too…” He kept his voice low, as he slid his hand around, inside the robe. He sat up fully, and pressed his lips to Phryne’s navel. “Now this, Miss Fisher, is a very lovely bikini.”

“Yes, I like it,” replied Phryne, bringing her hand to Jack’s shoulder, tracing her fingers over his broad muscles. 

“Especially these dots, they’re particularly, lovely.” He felt he wasn’t using the world’s widest vocabulary right now, but he was finding it hard to focus on much besides Phryne.

“They’re spots, Jack.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Size, Jack.”

Turning his face upwards, he smiled at Phryne, “Ah, I see. Well, I stand corrected. Spots it is.”

Phryne sighed as Jack rubbed his fingers over her hips. 

His gaze ran down her body, as his hand ran around to her backside, caressing her gently. “I fear, Phryne, you have me at a distinct disadvantage.”

“And what would that be, Jack?” 

“Well I’ve merely managed to get undressed, whereas you’ve managed to change entirely.”

“Well I can’t help it if I’m quicker, Jack.” Phryne caressed the tips of her fingers through his hair. 

“Always two steps ahead?” Jack glanced upwards before pressing his lips to Phryne’s navel.

“At least.” Phryne moved her hand, tracing her fingers down to Jack’s jaw. Gently she tilted his head up, as she dipped her head towards his. 

Their lips met in a gentle kiss, the tenderness between them surprising Phryne. 

“Are you OK with this?” Jack asked, after their lips parted. He gestured towards the door to the changing room with a tilt of his head.

“I am. Are you?”

“Yes” replied Jack, a small furrow momentarily appearing in his brow as he surprised himself with his response.

Phryne smiled wickedly. Oh Jack was fun; a surprising amount of fun sometimes.

“We will have to be quiet.” He added, working his fingers carefully inside the waistband of her bikini bottoms. 

“I do so enjoy a challenge…” Phryne gasped as Jack delicately but quite determinedly eased her bikini bottoms over her hips and guided them towards the floor. Phryne kicked them behind her.

Kissing her navel again, Jack stroked his fingers over Phryne’s now uncovered hips. Moving his right leg, he gently teased Phryne’s legs apart, resting his thigh between her legs. Curving his fingers round her bottom he stroked her folds. Steadying her with his unoccupied hand on her hip, he nuzzled his nose between the neat thatch of hair nestled between her thighs, opening her to him. As his fingers worked at her folds, he discovered she was already damp. 

Oh, oh that was his tongue. She was glad she had a hand on his shoulder still, she could already feel her leg muscles starting to shake. Possibly it was the slight chance of being discovered, as much as her sheer arousal. Well if he was going to just sit there, naked, on a bench, what did he expect? Phryne closed her eyes as Jack’s tongue probed her clit before she felt his fingers scissoring inside her. She gasped as she felt her orgasm approaching. Maybe it was the gravity? 

“I said, Phryne, that we would have to be quiet,” Jack said, in a voice that was somewhat muffled. As if to tease her, he swirled his tongue around her clit once more. For good measure, he made a stroking motion with the fingers that were inside her. He noted that the hand which wasn’t gripping onto his shoulder flew past his head, and then Phryne came, muffling her cry into her forearm, as he continued suckling on her now very responsive clit. He stroked his fingers inside her for a few moments more, before withdrawing them carefully to lightly caress her labia once more. The low groan which he felt as much as heard, led him to conclude that this was one of those times when she was particularly responsive to being touched there. He moved his tongue further into her, experimentally. As he felt a second wave overcome her, he smiled.

The bastard, he was smiling! She could feel the change in the shape of his face muscles. Shifting her hips, she felt him release his mouth from her, and she leaned back slightly in order to be able to see his face. Grasping his wrist, she brought his hand to her mouth and licked his fingers, tasting her own juices. Jack swallowed and Phryne glanced downwards. Oh good, he was eager. 

“Condom?”

“Gym bag.” He half-croaked, trying to restore some of the self-control he could feel rapidly deserting him. 

Reaching over, Phryne efficiently rooted through the bag, finding the foil wrapped package in a side pocket. Three? Well, well, he was becoming more confident. She did so enjoy him when he was loosened up a little. To be fair, right now he was loosened up a lot. As well as somewhat wound tight. Refocusing, she wrapped her fingers around Jack’s cock, working her fingers up, around and down his length. Jack leaned back on the bench and watched as Phryne continued to massage him. There was a pause as Phryne rolled the condom down, discarding the wrapper into Jack’s bag. 

Straddling his lap, Phryne positioned herself, as Jack reached an arm around her to steady her. She felt his fingers splay across her lower back, as she lowered herself and felt him as he thrusted slightly as she settled around him. As she looked at Jack, he met her gaze and bobbed his head towards hers.

Their lips met as he started to move his hips in small movements. Phryne met his motion, slapping one hand onto his upper back to steady herself and ensure they remained engaged. 

“You know, I said, we’d have to be quiet?” Jack asked, breathlessly.

“Yes.” Phryne rasped, as Jack kissed her jaw.

“Well… this might also be a bit quick…”

“Oh god…”

Jack felt Phryne’s inner muscles contracting. Likely that meant she wasn’t far off a further climax. Quickly he kissed down her sternum, before attaching his lips around her breast and sucking gently. Even through the fabric of the bikini he could feel her respond. If he moved his other hand; the one supporting him, everything could go very wrong. He felt her muscles contract around him again. Oh, it was no good, he couldn’t hold off any longer. With all the force he could muster, which was less than he would have liked, he thrust his hips upwards as he came. 

Jack was loosely aware of Phryne grabbing his head and yanking it upwards, before she attached her lips to his in a kiss that was both messy and urgent. It became even sloppier as Phryne came, roaring into Jack’s mouth as she did. 

As they both recovered, Jack blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to focus. He could feel the muscles in his arms and legs beginning to rapidly fail him. 

“You OK?” Phryne asked, as she kissed the edge of his mouth daintily.

“Yeah.” Jack answered, not entirely convinced he was. “Sorry that was so…”

“It’s fine Jack. Rather more than fine, actually.” Phryne kissed him on the cheek. “As long as you enjoyed yourself?”

“I did. I did.” Jack rubbed his hand up Phryne’s spine.

The sound of Phryne’s phone vibrating broke their bubble of intimacy.

“Phone call?” asked Jack.

“Text message. Sorry.” 

Phryne extracted herself carefully from Jack’s lap, turning away to locate her bikini bottoms. Jack took the opportunity to caress her bottom once more as she moved away. Phryne glanced over her shoulder as she bent over to collect the bikini from the floor.

“You’ll turn my head Jack Robinson.” She spoke softly, more softly than she’d imagined she would. 

Jack looked up, having quickly dealt with the condom and donned his swimming shorts. He smiled at her, one of his large, warm smiles that he tended to keep hidden from most people. 

She really was amazing. He was really finding that he was enjoying sex again. He’d never have said it: but it had almost become a burden, at the end, with Rosie, with barely any pleasure being derived from it – on both their parts, he suspected. But Phryne was altogether something different. She made no secret of the fact that she very much enjoyed sex, and she was encouraging him to have the confidence to admit that he did too.

Phryne plucked her phone from her bag and rolled her eyes. “Oh good grief,” she exclaimed, unenthusiastically. She turned to Jack, waving the phone in front of him.  
“Stop COPping off and get out here! G”

Brilliant, thought Jack; well, subtly was not one of Phryne’s strongest characteristics, and her cousin plainly knew how to wind her up; something he’d been doing for much of the day. Jack sighed, zipped his bag, took a step across the room to bring himself alongside Phryne and kissed her politely on the cheek. The small smile she gave him made him hope that they might yet make it back to St Kilda without too much awkwardness arising.

*************************

“You know Phryne-kins, you don’t seem to quite be your usual chirpy self” Guy remarked, peering over the edge of his sunglasses.

“I assure you, I am very chirpy Guy.” Phryne tested the water with her toe as she watched Jack dive in at the deep end of the pool. 

“You didn’t get yourself tied up in that business with Gertie did you?” he asked, oblivious of the pursed lips on Phryne’s face as she made eye contact with Jack.

“How did you know about that?” Phryne looked over her shoulder towards Guy, who was lounging on a poolside chair.

“Oh! Did you know the girl who got herself killed? How exciting!” interjected Isabella, giggling as she did.

“Actually, it’s not funny. It’s horribly tragic.” Phryne snapped, as she sat down on the edge of the pool.

“One of your little cases was it, Inspector?” asked Guy, excessively elongating the last word as he redirected his attention towards Jack. 

“Not at all. Something of a possible conflict of interest, I’m afraid, so although I was at the scene fairly soon after it happened, I was not part of the investigating team.” Jack replied, swimming over to Phryne and rubbing her legs as she dangled her feet in the pool. 

“Conflict of interest? Oh do tell.” Isabella spoke again.

“And don’t tell me you’re an honest copper? My, my Phryne-kins, what has happened to you?” Guy was practically guffawing now.

Arse, thought Jack. He could already see Phryne’s shoulders tensing, the muscles in her body and legs following suit. He could see her grinding her teeth slightly, in the way she did when she was trying to retain her composure. He bobbed forwards, pressing his lips to her knee in an attempt to distract her. Gripping the edge of the pool with his left hand, he slipped his right across the back of Phryne’s calves, running his fingers over her muscles gently, before moving his head to kiss her other knee. He felt the tension in her legs ease slightly.

“Yes Guy, Jack is indeed an honest copper. And I don’t take kindly to the suggestion that he might be anything less than that. Jack Robinson,” Phryne looked down at the man bobbing in front of her in the water. She smiled. “Jack is the best of men, actually. And the situation with Gertie turned out to be terribly over-complicated.”

“A jealous lover perhaps?” Guy simpered. 

Really, Phryne thought, rolling her eyes, he and Izzy were appallingly well suited. “Jack? Do you want to fill Guy and Izzy in on all the salacious details?” Phryne asked, reaching out and running a hand through Jack’s hair. 

“As much as I can.” Jack replied, kissing her knee again before disentangling himself from her and pushing himself backwards further towards the middle of the pool. 

As he propelled himself through the cool water, Jack considered where to begin. “It’s a somewhat complicated story. The first thing, and, really, the most important, is to go back to 1994, and you have to understand how the birth registration process works in Britain. Which Phryne helped us with.” As an opening salvo, he thought it wasn’t bad.

“Phryne-kins helped you? My word!” Guy was almost laughing, Jack thought. No, no, on further consideration, he was definitely laughing.

“I am a private detective, Guy. And I am of invaluable assistance to the Victoria Police Force in numerous cases.”

“Am I telling this story, Phryne, or would you prefer to take over?” Jack sassed in her general direction.

Phryne flicked her foot in response, sending a gentle arc of water in Jack’s direction, which he dodged. He took it as an indication to continue. “It turns out, in Britain, when you go to register the birth of a child at Hatch, Match and Dispatch, that you don’t need to produce any paperwork.” 

“What nothing at all?” trilled Isabelle, “that sounds like there’s room for a right wheeze.”

“Yes. No paperwork at all. So you can say whatever you like for the details of the baby.” Jack still found that to be somewhat perplexing. 

“Like, for example, saying that the mother is a completely different person than it actually was.” Phryne added.

“So the young woman, Millie, who we assumed to be the daughter of Ailsa Wilton, was, in fact, the daughter of Gertie.” Jack continued, by way of further explanation.

“Gertie had a child? Sly old girl!” Guy was very definitely chuckling now.

“Ailsa and Gertie made an arrangement between themselves that Ailsa would look after Gertie’s child.” Jack said.

“Why couldn’t Gertie do that herself? She was absolutely loaded.” Guy was suddenly serious.

“No she wasn’t. Entirely reliant on money from a trust controlled by her father, in fact if not in name. And apparently, back in ‘94, he’d have gone absolutely OTT if Gertie had turned up with an illegitimate child in tow.” Phryne chipped in, smiling at Jack as he trod water. “So she carried on enjoying the life of a care-free socialite, dropping in and playing ‘Aunt’ to Millie.”

“So what changed?” Izzy suddenly seemed interested in something other than her cocktail.

“Her father decided that he’d turn off the tap of money if she didn’t get married. Tony Rose was trying to propose. We had him down as a suspect for a while.” Jack was relieved that this was all public knowledge. The press had been very enthusiastic in their reporting. 

“Tony Rose from The X Factor? I rather like him; he’s terribly dishy.” Izzy was now very much interested.

“The very same. And he’s a tad oily when you meet him in real life.” Phryne added.

“My god, he must be an appalling human being, for you to rate him ‘a tad oily’.” Guy opined from his lounger.

“Thank you so much Guy.” Phryne crossed her arms. “I do have standards, as well you know.”

Jack decided to ignore the comment. “Now we did think the brother might have been involved.” 

“The brother? How?”

“Claude’s company was at the race track where Gertie died on the same day that Phryne’s Adventuresses were.”

“He’s some sort of accountant isn’t he? How terribly dull.” Guy looked disdainful as he picked at the tips of his fingers. 

“Isn’t he in business with Lachlan Pepper? He’s a bit of a silver fox.” Izzy had re-joined the conversation fully now. 

“And Lachlan Pepper, it turns out, is Millie’s biological father.” Phryne threw that gambit into the conversational mix. 

“The sly old dog! I didn’t think he had it in him to pull a filly like Gertie.” Guy was practically salivating now.

“That’s really no way to speak of a murder victim Guy.” Phryne really did find her cousin to be trying on occasion. On numerous occasions, if she was truly honest.

“My apologies, Phryne-kins. You _have_ turned serious, haven’t you?”

Jack tried to keep his face still. He really needed Phryne’s cousin to stop talking like that; it was the sort of ‘humorous ribbing’ that was likely to lead to Phryne running away from Them quicker than her Jag could whisk her down the highway. Distract her with the murder; that might work, he thought. “So yes, in the end Tony Rose had an alibi. Well, three of them in fact. Called Kylie, Chantelle and Clarissa.” Jack tried not to roll his eyes. “Claude, well, my colleagues ruled him out when it turned out that he and his sister were working together to try to get their father to loosen his grip on the trust money.”

“And whilst it seems that Millie has developed a slight criminal tendency…” Phryne interjected.

“Slight? She tampered with the car’s brakes in a fifteen minute break, unseen by anyone.” Jack turned towards Phryne, a look of incredulity on his face now.

“A minor infraction, Jack, which I hope the VPF will be persuaded to overlook.”

“Unlikely. But I’m sure she’ll have a very good solicitor.”

When Jack had tried to explain it all to Phryne and the other Adventuresses he’d practically had to draw a diagram. One point all the women had agreed on; Millie would be helped however she needed – with any case brought against her, with the remainder of her education, and with securing her work in her favoured field in due course. Luckily one of The Adventuresses was a qualified solicitor and a fully paid up member of the Victoria Law Society. It would, no doubt, turn out fine for Millie in the end.

“So who did do it?” asked Izzy, who seemed genuinely interested in something serious, for possibly the first time in her life.

“Ailsa Wilton. She was petrified that Gertie was about to take Millie away from her.” Jack bobbed up and down in the water as he spoke. 

“Which she was…” Phryne stated.

“Which, as Phryne says, she was trying to do. So she killed her, so that she could keep all the secrets hidden and keep Millie as ‘her’ daughter.”

There was a pause.

“You’re right, that is overly complex.” Said Izzy, after considering the tale. 

“And good luck to you coppers, having to sort it all out.” Added Guy, suddenly quiet.

“The dangers of a hedonistic lifestyle, and thinking you can have everything you want, without any consequences,” added Phryne. 

Jack wondered when it would be polite to leave, before Guy said anything truly inflammatory…

****************************

“So what was Arthur talking to you about?” 

The car was whizzing up the highway, as dusk turned rapidly into night.

“Oh, this and that. Our jobs mostly.”

“Oh god! He didn’t ask you what you do, did he? Please, please tell me you weren’t graphic? He gets terrible nightmares.”

“Relax, Phryne. First I asked him what he did. He was telling me about it in quite a lot of detail.”

“We’re very proud of him. It’s a tiny job really, but Aunt P and Uncle Edward were always told that even that would be beyond him. It’s not of course, but the world can be terribly cruel.”

“It can. And then I asked him what he knows about your job.”

“Oh god! What on earth did he say to that?”

“Well apparently, you’re like a ‘modern Sherlock Holmes. But a girl.’ Which Arthur tells me is amazing, as he loves those stories.”

“Ah. And so from there…”

“From there we determined that… well, that I’m, effectively, Inspector Lestrade.”

Phryne snorted with laughter. “Oh that’s delightful.”

“Well I imagine Lestrade found Holmes to be just as exasperating as I occasionally found you.”

“My assistance is invaluable, Jack. As you’ve found on numerous occasions.”

“Yes, but your paperwork is terribly lax.”

Phryne pouted.

“But I will agree that you are a great assistance. On occasion.”

“Thank you for your concession, Jack.”

“And I’m sure Lestrade never had quite as much fun with Holmes as I’m having with you. Thank you. For today. It’s been really great meeting more of your family.” Jack took the opportunity afforded by a stop at a set of traffic lights to gently caress Phryne’s knee with his fingers. 

“And thank you for not killing Guy. Or rising to his bait. Or finding something to arrest him for. I do love him, but he can be a bit much, sometimes.”

“I imagine you were a pair of terrors when you were younger.” The lights had changed and Jack had removed his hand from Phryne’s knee.

“Perhaps.” Phryne shrugged. “But thank you. I think you managed to play him just right.”

Jack smiled. “Thanks.”

Phryne considered the day as she steered the car back towards St Kilda. It had been a lot of fun. Jack had got on well with Arthur, and, from what she had seen, had never treated her cousin with any sort of condescension or contempt. And Aunt P’s friends had been eyeing Jack up, and admiring him. Politely but Phryne had heard the word ‘handsome’ and ‘Phryne’s Inspector’ at more than one point. She smiled, she didn’t hold with the notion of anyone being ‘hers’. But she did like the notion that there was something between them that people could see. Which was odd – she usually liked to play her cards very close to her chest. But then again, she supposed that taking him to the event had marked him out as more than a passing fling. The thought no longer scared her, she realised. She smiled and noted that they were nearly back at her home. After the interlude in the pool changing room, she had some very wicked thoughts for how Jack and her could pass the few remaining hours of the evening…


End file.
